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Presented to 

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of (Toronto 



Vivian Grey, Coningsby, Sybil, Tancred 

by Benjamin Disraeli 

in 4 Vols. 




Benjamin Disraeli s 











"Why then the world's mine oyster, 
Which I with sword will open." 













Book I., 


II., - 



- 134 



V., - 

- 254 


45 2 






Experience ; mysterious spirit ! - - Frontispiece 

No sound ! not even a sigh ! - Page 451 


THE aim of this edition is to present the Young 
England movement, the judgments and ideals of the 
Young Tory party, as conceived by its leading states- 
man in the enthusiasm of youth. The historical 
and political significance of the four novels justifies 
at once their isolation from Disraeli's other work 
and their publication as a series complete in itself. 
Coningsby, Sybil^ and Tancred were actually con- 
templated in sequence by their author. Vivian Grey 
foreshadows what they expound. 

Disraeli wrote many novels with no didactic 
purpose : others were certainly inspired, if not 
in every detail, by certain fundamental ideas in 
politics and philosophy. It is these latter with 
which we are concerned, and which we desire to 

Vivian Grey has been hitherto accepted as a mere 
boyish freak of clever literary bravado an auto- 
biography and a portrait gallery. It is neither, but 
contains, in fact, a broader study of human life, 
particularly illustrated by the fall and regeneration 
of too presumptuous youth than its author ever 
again attempted. I find here also unmistakable 
indications of the ' Young England ' ideals to which 
the later novels of our group are consciously and 
b xi 


avowedly devoted. Coningsby represents the exist- 
ing state of political parties : the new creed and its 
mission. Sybil is a study of the conditions and the 
relations of rich and poor in England, and of the 
policies required to cure their defects. Tancred 
illustrates the power of the Church as a national 
institution and a remedial agency, while incidentally 
revealing Disraeli's Imperial ideals. 

Bearing in mind the special interest always attach- 
ing to the youthful expression of an ideal one, too, 
which is avowedly dependant on the strength and 
inspiration of youth, I have determined to reprint 
the novels as they were originally issued. In later 
editions, now alone available, of Vivian Grey whole 
chapters and characters were omitted, and minor 
revisions confront us at every turn. Yet these 
changes were never acknowledged and have not, so 
far as I can ascertain, been remarked by his critics. 
To-day we are more desirous of studying the 
ideas of the youth, than that youth's ideas corrected 
some twenty years later by the man. 

At the present time, when the acquisition of wealth 
is often openly adopted as an Ideal of Life, when Faith 
is called Faddism, and Enthusiasm Fanaticism, it 
cannot but be well to study through the writings of 
its chief exponent a political movement which based 
its practices on its faith, and its faith upon a nobler 
ideal than materialism in an age when, as now, the 
older political watchwords were outworn and con- 
fused, and it was for the youth of the nation, ' the 
trustees of posterity,' to form and mould them anew. 

COPTHILL, 1904. 


A few notes are appended to each volume on 
obscure or forgotten incidental allusions and incidents 
of contemporary history. Brief bibliographical notes 
will point the way for any desirous of studying 
the subject further for themselves. My thanks are 
due to Mr. Lucian Oldershaw for his assistance in 
reading proofs, as well as for the original conception 
of the reprint, and for help and advice at every stage 
of its progress. Of the two drawings in each novel 
by Mr. Byam Shaw, one is designed as an allegorical 
presentation of its central idea, the second is illustra- 
tive of a leading incident. 

B. N. L-D. 



' BOOKS written by boys ' said Disraeli in the 
Advertisement to the re-issue of Vivian Grey twenty- 
seven years after its first publication 'which pretend 
to give a picture of manners, and to deal in know- 
ledge of human nature, must necessarily be founded 
on affectation.' Yet the fact that Vivian Grey was 
written when its author was only just out of his 
teens (while his plans for his own career were still 
unformed, and his schemes for the regeneration of 
political parties and through them of the English 
people still unborn), makes it the best prelude to a 
study of the Young England movement. And the 
most fitting preface to Vivian Grey is an introduction 
to the youth who preached that ' genius when young 
is divine.' 

Of the divinity of Disraeli at any time of his life 
there is room for doubt, of his genius there can be 
but little. He differed, however, from most men 
of genius, and Englishmen are inclined to question 
his claim to the title, because he himself was entirely 
and frankly conscious of its possession. His asser- 
tion at an early age to Lord Melbourne of his 
intention to become Prime Minister, the dramatic 
conclusion of his maiden speech in the House of 
Commons, the minute self-study of a young man of 



genius detailed in his Psychological Autobiography 
Contarini Fleming, the whole history o*f his life and 
personality up to the time when the world began 
perforce to take him seriously, show clearly enough 
that, as he believed in his race as the chosen people 
of God, so he believed in himself as one of that 
other chosen people the men of genius. 

Yet at the time when Vivian Grey appeared what 
were his prospects ? How could he see his way 
to the realisation of ambitions only justifiable from a 
profound conviction of his own genius ? He was a 
member of a race which, however favoured of Heaven, 
was by Englishmen at that time not only regarded 
with ill-concealed dislike, but excluded as far as pos- 
sible from the control of affairs. He had no family 
influence and no wealth wherewith to purchase it. 
His education had not been such as to bring him into 
contact and acquaintance with men of position and 
power. His family were for the most part unable to 
sympathise with or to understand his aspirations. 
His friends could see little in him beyond a clever 
young man whose intellect, like his dress, was original 
but foppish. Conceive a youth who believed that his 
race was still the chosen of God, and that he himself 
was inspired and gifted with special powers ; conceive 
the indomitable perseverance of the Jew chained to 
yearning ambition for apparently unattainable ideals ; 
conceive the brilliant and gifted mind which was 
only too conscious of a strength whose scope and 
character could not be determined through lack of 
opportunity ; and make of all this a lawyer's clerk. 
You will not then wonder how a young man of 
twenty-one could write those words which form the 
unexpected conclusion of Vivian Grey : ' The dis- 
appointment of manhood succeeds to the delusion 



of youth ; let us hope that the heritage of old age 
is not despair.' 

It is only by appreciating his personal position that 
the reader can understand why the man who was 
soon to represent the youth of England as her true 
regenerators, should tell the story of so brilliant 
and so hopeless a failure as young Vivian Grey ; 
why, with the callow cynicism peculiar to dis- 
appointed youth, he should assume decrees of 
fortune against the ambition of one whose powers 
and aspirations were at war with his circumstances ; 
and why he should so constantly show a spirit of 
rebellion against those decrees. If this be clear, 
there will be no difficulty in gathering a sensible 
meaning from the passage wherein young Vivian 
Grey contemplates his future career. 

' In the plenitude of his ambition, he stopped one 
day to enquire in what manner he could obtain his 
magnificent ends. 

' The Bar : pooh ! law and bad jokes till we are 
forty ; and then, with the most brilliant success, the 
prospect of gout and a coronet. Besides, to succeed 
as an advocate, I must be a great lawyer ; and, to be 
a great lawyer, I must give up my chance of being a 
great man. The services in war time are fit only 
for desperadoes (and that truly am I) ; but, in peace, 
are fit only for fools. The church is more rational. 
Let me see : I should certainly like to act Wolsey ; 
but, the thousand and one chances against me ! And 
truly I feel my destiny should not be on a chance. 
Were I the son of a Millionaire, or a noble, I might 
have all. Curse on my lot ! that the want of a few 
rascal counters, and the possession of a little rascal 
blood, should mar my fortunes ! ' These are the 
thoughts of young Benjamin Disraeli scorning the 



limitations of the careers open to him and seeking 
now here, now there, for some loophole of escape 
into a wider and freer atmosphere. 

Critics have been hitherto content to assume 
that, because the author of Vivian Grey was con- 
fronted with somewhat the same difficulties and 
problems as his hero, his plans for surmounting 
them were identical. Mr. T. P. O'Connor in his 
Biography of Disraeli^ following the lines of an 
earlier work by a Mr. Macknight, has represented 
with malicious cleverness, but with an obviously 
conscious lack of discrimination, that in Vivian Grey's 
scheme of his career, and in its early steps we may see 
an exposition of Disraeli's own scheme and a forecast 
of his early political fortunes. No interpretation 
could be less probable, and few forecasts could be less 
consonant with the facts. A clever young man does 
not represent himself as entering on a course which 
he proceeds to trace to its inevitable failure, nor does 
the early political history of Disraeli in any way 
agree with that of Vivian Grey. On the basis of his 
own character and abilities, Disraeli has constructed 
a personality and a story which his imagination, 
in conjunction with his self-study, told him were 
possible. It is thus, as we shall see later, that he 
built up his principal characters from living originals ; 
and this is why detailed keys to the so called portraits 
of distinguished men of the time are as misleading as 
the autobiographical assumption. 

Politics were the study which enthralled Vivian 
Grey, and from many circumstances we may gather 
that they also won the allegiance of the young Disraeli. 
But while Vivian Grey plunged straight into schemes 
of political machinations without any consideration of 
what his views might be, it was not for some five 


years after completing this novel that Disraeli took 
any step in the political world. Then, so far from 
entering on a career in which like Vivian Grey he 
should consider mankind his great game and strive 
to win his own way to distinction by the clever 
manoeuvring of disappointed and vain magnificoes, 
he came forward ' wearing the badge of no party 
and the livery of no faction,' and indeed destroyed 
his own chances of election by appearing as a man 
of views rather than as a follower of any leader. 
Nay, we may go further ; we may say that in 
his character of Vivian Grey, who made so hopeless 
a failure in politics, we may read the author's view 
of what might happen to himself should he not 
beware, as Vivian's father said, ' of endeavouring to 
become a great man in a hurry.' In the advice of 
that father we may see the conclusions arrived at 
by the young Disraeli in council with his own 
father. What does Mr. Grey, senior, say to his 
son ? * I hope you are not going to be one of 
those sons of Aurora, " who, puffed up with the 
glittering show of vanity and ostentation, attempt 
actions above their strength." You talk to me 
about the peculiarly active spirit of society ; if 
the spirit of society be so peculiarly active, Mr. 
Vivian Grey should beware lest it outstrip him. Is 
neglecting to mature your mind, my boy, exactly 
the way to win the race ? ' And it is perhaps to 
these views, the resultants of the character and 
ambitions of the son combined with the experience 
and wise foresight of the father, that we must look 
for an interpretation of the hitherto unexplained 
dedication which appears only in the first edition : 

'To the best and greatest of men I dedicate these 
volumes. He, for whom it is intended, will accept 



and appreciate the compliment : those for whom it 
is not intended will do the same.' 

Of course, the dedication may have been intended 
merely to add to the air of mystery in which the book 
was shrouded. But if there was anything genuine 
in it, and the fact of its omission in 1853 perhaps 
gives some indication that it was a serious dedication, 
of which the interest, in the eyes of the author, had 
gone with his father's death, it is not easy to find 
any other person to whom it would apply. To 
almost any one else, whose character was in any 
way suggested in the story, the comprehension of 
the satire on themselves would hardly make them 
regard the dedication of the work to them as a 
compliment. The only character whose words, 
manner, and mode of life are rendered in such a 
way as to make the original able to recognise him- 
self at once, and who at the same time would, as 
a result of this recognition, regard the dedication 
of the book to him as a compliment, is Mr. Grey. 
Of Isaac Disraeli we know enough to recognise his 
portrait and to appreciate that his relations to his 
son were almost exactly those of Mr. Grey to Vivian. 
It may then be regarded as almost certain that the 
dedication was to him, that the conversations in 
chapters six, nine, and elsewhere are resumes of 
many conversations which had passed between him 
and his son, and that Benjamin Disraeli in the 
political escapades of Vivian Grey is showing how 
he was convinced by his father's reasoning and 
is portraying the dangers which he conceived that he 
was avoiding by taking that father's advice. 

There is one piece of direct evidence often 
quoted to prove that the history of Vivian Grey 
was that of Benjamin Disraeli which must not be 



passed over though it may be criticised. Lord 
Lamington, better known perhaps as Baillie Coch- 
rane (the Sir Charles Buckhurst of Coningsby], in 
his amusing little book, In the Days of the Dandies, 
makes the following remark : ' It was on such 
occasions that Mr. Disraeli would tell us the tale 
of his early life, which really was the life of Vivian 
Grey.' This is a sufficiently direct statement by 
a man who ought to know what he is talking 
about. Yet there are a few considerations which 
may incline the reader to doubt even this piece 
of evidence. Lord Lamington is speaking of con- 
versations which occurred some forty or more 
years before, and may perhaps have unintentionally 
given a false idea that Disraeli meant in these 
conversations to imply that the incidents of Vivian 
Grey's career were those of his own, whereas he 
meant something quite different. The possibility 
of such inaccuracy is, perhaps, borne out by the 
carelessness with which Lord Lamington quotes in 
the same book from Disraeli's novels. And further, 
there is no indication as to whether Disraeli said 
that he was describing his past or was foretelling 
his future in the life of Vivian Grey. And, which- 
ever he is represented to have said, all evidence 
goes to show that neither was the case. Had 
Disraeli gone through a political escapade before 
the appearance of his first novel in 1826, there 
must have been some record of it. As a matter 
of fact there is none ; and none of his biographers, 
eager as some of them must have been to find 
evidence of it, have even hinted that such was the 
case. If the history is supposed to have been 
acknowledged by the author as a forecast of what 
afterwards happened to him, where, it must again 



be asked, is the evidence ? Mr. O'Connor asserts 
that what the Marquess of Carabas was to Vivian 
Grey, the Marquess of Buckingham and Chandos 
subsequently became to Disraeli On what does 
he base an assertion implying that Disraeli entered 
into a definite alliance with the Marquess of Chandos 
to put him and his friends into power as Vivian 
Grey did with the Marquess of Carabas ? The only 
pieces of evidence are the following : that at 
a dinner at Aylesbury of the County Agricultural 
Association in i 834, Disraeli, in a speech at the end 
of the evening, included a few complimentary words 
to the chairman, who was the Marquess of Chandos ; 
that in the same year Greville in his Memoirs, said 
that the Chancellor spoke of Disraeli as 'a friend 
of Chandos' ; that at the time of the Repeal of the 
Corn Laws, ten years later, the Marquess of Chandos 
was one of the leaders of the Anti-Peel Tories, the 
party to which Disraeli also belonged. Surely this 
is flimsy evidence, and there is not a jot more 
to show that Disraeli ever used the Marquess of 
Chandos as the catspaw to his own advancement 
in the way that Vivian Grey used the Marquess of 

It may, then, fairly be urged that what Disraeli 
said, or implied, to Lord Lamington was, as has 
been represented above, that the mere substructure 
of Vivian Grey's character and early life was that 
of his own. Anything more than this Lord Laming- 
ton through carelessness, Mr. O'Connor and others 
through malice, wrongly infer. And this view is 
supported by a passage from the third volume, 
omitted in later editions, in which the author in- 
terrupts his story to express his indignation at the 
charge that Vivian Grey was an autobiography, a 



charge which had been brought within a month or two 
of the publication of the first two volumes and was 
therefore no new idea even of Mr. Macknight's. ' I 
conceived,' he says, ' the character of a youth of great 
talents, whose mind had been corrupted, as the 
minds of many of our youth have been, by the artificial 
age in which he lived. In his whole career he was to 
be pitied ; but for his whole career he was not to be 
less punished. When I sketched the feelings of his 
early boyhood, as the novelist, I had already foreseen 
the results to which those feelings were to lead ; 
and had in store for the fictitious character the 
punishment which he endured.' 

But if Vivian Grey cannot be accepted as an auto- 
biography, it has been, with no less injustice, dis- 
missed as a mere gallery of portraits. There is but 
one character in the novel, that of Mr. Grey, which 
can be called a portrait ; many of them probably were 
constructed from a combination of characteristics of 
more than one original ; others had merely a single 
trait borrowed from life interwoven with a personality 
and circumstances which are entirely creatures of 
imagination ; others again were pure fiction. Gossip, 
scandal, and personal details about social celebrities 
are the business of the less accredited society journals. 
A novelist like Disraeli, whatever his limitations, 
cannot but aim at something more creative than 
this ; and, though he may be willing to use his 
experience and to pique curiosity by suggesting 
originals, if he have any trace of genius or even 
of intelligence, must be led away from a mere 
description of them and their doings, and an improb- 
able forecast of their futures. 

Yet Sir William Fraser in his egotistical work, 
Disraeli and his Day, characteristically asserts that 



he suggested to Disraeli late in his life that the 
characters were ' idealised portraits,' and that Dis- 
raeli repeated and confirmed the suggestion. But, 
if the portraits were idealised, they were certainly 
not presented as perfect types. A man does not 
in the years of his responsibility and honour care 
to enlarge on the rashest actions of his rash youth, 
and Disraeli probably found a polite echo the 
easiest way of turning off a pert question. The 
arguments to be considered seriously are those 
deduced from Disraeli's own assertions on the point 
at or near the time of the publication of Vivian 
Grey, and the evidence from the characters them- 
selves and their alleged originals. And first of all 
comes the letter written by Disraeli himself to Mr. 
Colburn, who was pressing the author of the first 
part of Vivian Grey for a key to his characters, just 
after he had published the remaining parts : * I am 
very much surprised,' he wrote, ' at Mr. Colburn's 
request. How my knowledge of the characters in 
Vivian Grey can be necessary to, or indeed in the 
slightest degree assist any one in understanding the 
work, is to me a most inexplicable mystery. Let it 
be taken for granted that the characters are purely 
ideal, and the whole affair is settled. If any col- 
lateral information be required in order to understand 
the work, either Vivian Grey is unworthy to be read, 
or, which is of course an impossible conclusion, the 
reader is not sagacious enough to penetrate its 

' Of course I have no intention of denying that 
these volumes are in a very great degree founded on 
my own observation and experience. Possibly, in 
some instances, I may have very accurately depicted 
existing characters. But Vivian Grey is not given 



to the public as a gallery of portraits, nor have I any 
wish that it should be considered as such. It will 
give me great pleasure if the public recognise it as a 
faithful picture of human nature in general. Whether 
it be anything further rests with the author, and 
should only interest him. I cannot prevent sur- 
mises ; but I shall always take care that from me 
they shall receive neither denial nor confirmation. 
In part of the former volumes a number of names 
and characters were introduced which were evident 
portraits or caricatures. I can understand any reader 
of those pages being naturally desirous to compre- 
hend their full meaning, and seeking auxiliary means 
to produce the desired knowledge ; but to com- 
prehend the full meaning of the present volumes, the 
public has only to read them ; and, if there be 
anything obscure or unsatisfactory, it is the author's 
fault he is a blunderer. All the notes and keys in 
the kingdom will not make him more intelligible.' 

His own direct statement just after writing the 
novel amounts to this. The first four books, 
that is to say those which dealt with his political 
escapade, contained ' a number of names and char- 
acters which were evident portraits or caricatures.' 
The remaining volumes might contain characters 
which suggested in some measure living originals, 
but were not to be regarded as containing inten- 
tional portraits. 

There is, however, another source of information 
which, though indirect, is undoubtedly of real value. 
In Contarini Fleming, which was written five years 
after Vivian Grey, Disraeli gives an account of the 
composition, publication and effect of the hero's 
novel Manstein. A careful reading of the twelfth, 
fourteenth, and fifteenth chapters of the second part 



of Contarini Fleming must convince us that this is 
meant for a history of Disraeli's own Vivian Grey. 
The passages most nearly concerned with the present 
question it is perhaps allowable to quote : ' My 
hero,' he says, ' was a youth whose mind was ever 
combating with his situation. . . . All this was 
serious enough, and the most singular thing is, that 
all this time it never struck me that I was delineating 
my own character. But now comes the curious part. 
In depicting the scenes of society in which my hero 
was forced to move, I suddenly dashed, not only 
into slashing satire, but even into malignant per- 
sonality. All the bitterness of my heart, occasioned 
by my wretched existence among their false circles, 
found its full vent. Never was anything so im- 
prudent. Everybody figured, and all parties and 
opinions alike suffered. The same hand that 
immortalised the cream cheeses of poor Count de 
Moltke now avenged his wrongs. For the work 
itself, it was altogether a most crude performance, 
teeming with innumerable faults. It was entirely 
deficient in art. The principal character, although 
forcibly conceived, for it was founded on truth, was 
not sufficiently developed. Of course, the others 
were much less so. The incidents were unnatural, 
the serious characters exaggerations, the comic ones 
caricatures ; the wit was too often flippant, the 
philosophy too often forced ; yet the vigour was 
remarkable, the licence of an uncurbed imagination 
not without charms and, on the whole, there breathed 
a freshness which is rarely found, and which, perhaps, 
with all my art and knowledge, I may never again 
afford : and, indeed, when I recall the heat with 
which this little work was written, I am convinced 
that, with all its errors, the parts of true creation 



animated its fiery page.' Later on, in speaking of 
the effect the book had on society, Contarini says : 
' I can give no idea of the outcry. Everybody was 
in a passion, or affected to be painfully sensitive of 
their neighbours' wrongs. The very personality 
was ludicrously exaggerated. Everybody took a 
delight in detecting the originals of my portraits. 
Various keys were handed about, all different ; and, 
not content with recognising the very few decided 
sketches from life which there really were, and which 
were sufficiently obvious and not very malignant, 
they mischievously insisted that not a human shadow 
glided over my pages which might not be traced to 
its substance, and protested that the Austrian minister 
was the model of an old woman.' He says finally : 
' I never meant to ridicule any person in particular. 
I wrote with rapidity. I wrote of what I had seen 
and felt.' 

Here again, we find the author of Vivian Grey, if 
we may assume that the reference is autobiographical, 
emphasising most strongly the fact that in his novel, 
he was in a measure personal, but did not piece 
together his entire dramatis persons from living 
originals. Nevertheless, contemporary society be- 
lieved itself to be represented throughout the novel, 
and read with avidity the keys written to elucidate 
the portraiture. 

How many of such keys there may have been is 
doubtful. There is now but one available, compris- 
ing the tenth edition of a key to the second part 
of the story and a quotation from the columns of 
the Star Chamber containing a key to the first part. 
The Star Chamber was a paper which appeared in 
1826, and after struggling on for a few months died 
in the same year. It is generally supposed that this 
c xxvii 


paper, and therefore the criticism of Vivian Grey and 
the key, was inspired, and in great part written, by 
Disraeli ; but the evidence for this view is slight. It 
is founded on the fact that the style of many of the 
articles was very like that of Disraeli, and that much 
the same views as he expressed elsewhere appeared 
from time to time in its columns. It is clear, how- 
ever, that from this evidence alone no certain 
conclusion can proceed. The paper might just as well 
have been written by admirers of Disraeli as by 
Disraeli himself. His political enemies, who have 
always sought more to attack in him than there really 
was, have asserted or insinuated that he was guilty 
of puffing his own novel in an anonymous article. 
It will be seen from the extract which follows that 
the style of the review undoubtedly bears a resem- 
blance to that of the author of Vivian Grey, but 
before any deduction as to its authorship can be 
assumed there are one or two questions which the 
reader should put to himself. Apart from the lack 
of evidence to show that Disraeli really did write in 
this journal, is it likely that he would have reviewed 
his own book ? That would have been a contra- 
vention of the ordinary principles of decency, of 
which even an eccentric young fop of twenty-two 
would hardly be guilty. And, had he done this, 
would he not rather have struggled to conceal his 
own style of writing than to have exhibited so 
marked a likeness? And lastly, in view of Disraeli's 
own assertions as to the real extent of the portraiture, 
and in view of the internal evidence as to the truth 
of these assertions, would he not, if making the key 
to his own book, either have given the originals to 
the few characters which were really recognisable, or 
have invented, for the sake of piquing curiosity, an 


inclusive list ? The author of the key, however, 
ascribes originals to under thirty out of over sixty 
characters appearing in the first four books, and, if 
the usual interpretation of its initial letters and 
skeleton outlines be correct, was betrayed into 
error in more than one case. 

The extract from the Star Chamber of the 24th of 
May, 1826, runs as follows : ' Who is the Author ? 
Not Lord Glengall, reader, though he has modestly 
confessed it, not Lord Normanby, reader, though 
he has, as modestly, denied it. Neither is the Author 
of Vivian Grey Mr. Ward or Mr. Hook. These 
names, we believe, however, have not of late passed 
current, in spite of the Irish Earl's repeated assever- 
ations. Lord Glengall the author of Vivian Grey ? 
What next ? Another name has been whispered 
through the town, and if we are to pay any credence 
to a communication signed A. J. V., that name is 
the right one, " a young gentleman of extraordinary 
abilities hitherto unknown." Illustrious and innocent 
young man ! 

* To be brief we do not believe Mr. A. J. V.'s 
communication (although he is doubtless the " young 
gentleman " himself) we do not believe it, although 
to use his own phrase, " his conjecture almost 
amounts to conviction," we do not believe it for one 
simple reason, because We know who the Author of 
Vivian Grey really is.' 

Neither the key to the first nor that to the second 
part is sufficiently explicit to offer certain ground 
for the criticism of every individual assertion. 
Many of the notables and notorieties of fashionable 
London Society nearly eighty years ago are entirely 
unknown to-day. If, for instance, by laborious 
search it could be discovered who was the Lady 


C mentioned as the original of Mrs. Del- 

mont, we should learn but little. For Vivian Grey 
might be read half a dozen times without the 
allusion to Mrs. Delmont being recalled. She 

neither interprets Lady C , nor could Lady 

C possibly interpret her. But there are cases, 

besides those incidentally referred to above, where 
the keys show clearly enough the correct originals of 
caricatures. The Attackall Review is certainly the 
Quarterly, and Robert Southey is certainly its principal 
writer. So too the Praiseall Review is intended for 
the Edinburgh, Dr. von Spittergen for Abernethy, 
Julius von Aslingen for Brummell, and Mr. Sher- 
borne for a particular aspect of Isaac Disraeli. 
Other identifications are doubtless true enough, but 
some are as certainly false ; and as some of these occur 
in the key falsely attributed to Disraeli himself, it is 
perhaps allowable to give examples. Parthenopex 

Puff is there asserted to be Mr. S R , 

usually read as Samuel Rogers the poet, whom 
Parthenopex Puff in no way suggests. Look up 
the character and you will find that he has been 
working at Ariosto, and has dedicated a book on 
cats to the Guards. Mr. William Stewart Rose, 
whose most famous work was a translation of 
Partenopex of Blois, published in 1807, was at work 
on Ariosto from 1823 to 1831 ; and had in 1823 pub- 
lished a prose analysis of that poet ; in 1825 he wrote 
a book called an Apology addressed to the Travellers' 
Club ; or, Anecdotes of Monkeys. Here, then, is the 
original of Parthenopex Puff, whose initials are 
W. S. R., and not the famous S. R. A similar slight 
error is the ascription of the original of Antilles to a 

Mr. C E , whereas the initials should be 

C. R. E., standing for Charles Rose Ellis, the highest 



authority in Parliament on the West-Indian Islands, 
often called the Antilles. But more important than 
these slight mistakes is the statement that the Mar- 
quess of Carabas stands for the Marquess of C , 

usually supposed and confidently asserted by all 
subsequent writers to have been the Marquess of 
Clanricarde. Now the Marquess of Carabas is an 
elderly, vain, disappointed man, whose career is past, 
and on whose senile vanity Vivian Grey is able to 
work in making his own future. The then Marquess 
of Clanricarde was aged exactly twenty-four, and 
had succeeded his father, a military man, in the title 
some eighteen years before. He himself in the 
very year of the production of Vivian Grey held 
his first official post as Under Secretary for Foreign 
Affairs. We may be asked to believe that Disraeli 
foretold the circumstances of the Marquess of Clan- 
ricarde some thirty or forty years later, and falsely 
represented them, but it is absurd to expect us to 
believe that the Marquess of Carabas could in any 
way be intended to represent him as he then was. 
The other Marquesses at that time whose names 
began with C. were the Marquess of Cholmondeley, 
the Marquess of Camden, and the Marquess of 
Chandos. To none of these is the personality or 
history of the Marquess of Carabas, at all events 
as early as 1826, in any way germane. 

Nor is the key, which has not been ascribed to 
Disraeli's pen, more reliable. It is asserted, for 
example, that the Count von Sohnspeer represents 
the Duke of Wellington, with whom he had nothing 
save his sex and profession in common. And 
again, it is confidently stated that Madame Carolina 
represents Lady Holland. Her ambiguous position 
in the society in which her husband moves, and 


the brilliance and abilities of her circle no doubt 
suggest Lady Holland. But when she is referred 
to as ' Philosophical ! piquant ! Parisian,' and Lady 
Holland has been described as ' polite, cold, and 
haughty,' and is well known to have been care- 
less of appearances, and in almost all her charac- 
teristics different from Madame Carolina, it is 
clear that the confidence of this assertion is mis- 
leading. The keys, then, represent rather piquant 
pieces of journalism than veracious records of 
facts, and must only be accepted, even when their 
own cryptic initials have been interpreted, with great 

Here, then, is the best external evidence procurable 
as to the extent and limitations of portraiture in the 
novel. And it is remarkable, if the story is carefully 
studied, how closely the internal evidence appears 
to follow the lines of Disraeli's own accounts of it. 
Remarkable indeed, not because Disraeli might have 
been expected to give a false account, but because 
the aggressive certainty of the keys, and the innate 
desire of society to see itself, and more especially its 
neighbours, pilloried, have caused all critics to take 
unquestioningly the view that he told half truths only 
in his own accounts, and that the characters are in 
fact a string of portraits. If the reader will consider 
the characters carefully, he must inevitably come to 
the conclusion that, with the exception perhaps of 
Vivian and his father, the more important a part the 
personages play in the plot of the story the less they 
savour of caricature, and the less certainty there is as 
to the originals they are presumed to represent. The 
only definite original suggested for the Marquess 
of Carabas is wrong, Violet Fane has no charac- 
teristics which could give any interest to the know- 



ledge of her original, Madame Carolina suggests 
her reputed original about as little as one clever 
queen of society could suggest another. On the 
other hand, Stanislaus Hoax, Foaming Fudge, and 
Lord Alhambra, who are not really personalities in 
the story at all, are without doubt impressionist 
caricatures of Theodore Hook, Lord Brougham, and 
Lord Porchester. The conclusion then must be that, 
in writing a story which contained a hasty, bitter, 
and very youthful satire of society, one after another 
of the personalities, which the author knew or knew 
of, occurred to his mind. Sometimes, no doubt, the 
creations of his imagination recalled living persons, and 
he dubbed them with names or added a few further 
points to suggest the associations ; sometimes a living 
person was introduced for the purpose of the carica- 
ture ; sometimes the guesses of readers have no 
foundation whatever. When a minister who is all- 
powerful in a German State, and who lives a 
mysterious and retired life, is required for the story, 
we may perhaps conjecture that Disraeli is reminded 
of Metternich, and adds to the picture so as to make 
the resemblance of Beckendorff to him more com- 
plete. When he wishes to show how even the 
pure-blooded aristocrat will bow down to vulgar 
wealth, he bethinks him of the social position of 
Mrs. Coutts, and satirises her as Mrs. Million. 
When, on the other hand, he drags in, for no pur- 
pose whatever in his story, such names as the Misses 
Otranto and the Duke of Waterloo for the Misses 
Berry and the Duke of Wellington, and merely passes 
a word or a paragraph of comment upon them, we 
may be pretty sure that this is done for the sake 
of the caricature or portrait. And lastly, we may 
count ourselves fairly safe in assuming that characters 



like Essper George the mountebank, who is ' more 
honest than moonlight, for that deceives everyone, 
and less honest than self-praise, for that deceives no 
one'; or like John Conyers, the distressed yeoman, 
or Stapylton Toad, the successful manager of shady 
business for distressed aristocrats, are simply descrip- 
tions, satirical or otherwise, of types and not of 

Yet, despite this obvious conclusion, nearly all 
critics have united in ascribing to Disraeli, at the 
age of twenty-one, sufficient knowledge of psy- 
chology and of society to gauge the characters of 
many leading men of his time, and sufficient 
technical skill to introduce them into a more or 
less coherent story. The theory is improbable, 
specifically denied, and unnecessary. A single por- 
trait and a number of caricatures may have been 
introduced into the story. But we do not seek 
originals in Dickens and Thackeray for Mr. Toots, 
Mr. Winkle, or Henry Esmond, because Harold 
Skim pole, Mr. Micawber, and Lord Steyne are 
reputed to be caricatures or portraits of Leigh Hunt, 
Mr. Dickens senior, and Lord Hertford. ' My 
principal objects in writing this work,' says Disraeli, 
' are to amuse myself and instruct society.' He had 
not yet, as later in Coningsby, a band of people he 
wished to represent in connection with a set of views, 
nor had he the opportunity of knowing at all intim- 
ately the people he is said to have described. He 
had neither a purpose to serve in portraying them 
nor the power to do it. He denied having done 
so, and the facts bear out his denial. 

But the views of Disraeli as a young man of 
twenty-one, are to be found, as we have seen above, 
by analysing those of Vivian Grey and his father, 



and by noticing where the career of Vivian grows 
out of the characteristics which Disraeli transferred 
from himself to his hero, and where it is in the 
light of a ' horrid example.' What connection is 
there between these views and those which Disraeli 
afterwards offered to the world as the mouthpiece 
of Young England ? 

One of the leading principles of the Young England 
creed was the belief in the strength and inspiration 
of youth. ' Genius, when young, is divine,' has 
already been quoted from Coningsby. ' The history 
of heroes is the history of youth,' comes from the 
same novel. In the speech some years after this 
time at the Manchester Atheneum and also at the 
conclusion of Sybil occur the famous words : ' The 
Youth of the nation are the trustees of posterity.' 
Innumerable examples of these views might be 
collected, but these three concise and luminous 
sayings are sufficient to illustrate the point. And 
the Youth of England, so ran the creed, were to be 
the instruments of the great social and political 
changes which were needed. The men, whose 
principles of Government, when they had any, were 
right, were the old Tory Aristocracy. It was the 
young aristocracy and their friends who were to 
effect the reformation on the lines of Tory 
principles. And the first step in their reforma- 
tion must be the education, the sifting and the 
purification of their own order. This, in brief, 
is the Young England creed which Coningsby^ 
Sybil, and Tancred were written to expound. How 
far does Vivian Grey show the germ of these ideas in 
Disraeli's mind ? 

It needs no reading between the lines to discover 
from Vivian Grey that Disraeli was already criticising 



the way in which the Tories of the old school lived, 
and regarded political life. Consider the picture that 
he draws of them. Self-indulgent, extravagant, and 
idle, their faith was chiefly concentrated on three 
things, rank, wealth, and fashion. Their sense of 
responsibility was overwhelmed by their sense of 
their own importance, and their political honour 
had dwindled to an attachment they conceived 
heroic to their own order. But though the Marquess 
of Carabas and Sir Plantagenet Pure might believe in 
themselves and each other, and be courted by others 
for their rank, though they in their turn might 
court the vulgar Mrs. Million for her money, and 
though all the great ones might be the faithful 
votaries of fashion, there was one other thing and a 
worthier thing which Disraeli does represent them as 
saluting, if not as adoring. ' Certain it is,' he says, 
' to enter high society a man must either have blood, 
a million, or genius.' He believed that brains were 
' a passport to the society of the great.' Here, then, 
was the way to their reformation and here the 
opportunity for an unprincipled schemer like Vivian 

But do we find in Vivian Grey any assumption 
that the principles of Government at the basis 
of the Tory position were in the main right, or 
more right than those of their opponents, and that 
it was by their young men they were to be 
reformed ? 

There is not very much in the novel that can be 
cited for certain to prove Disraeli's belief at that time 
in the principles of the Tory party. Still from the 
conversation between Vivian Grey and Cleveland in 
the first chapter of the fourth book might be quoted 
the praise of Gifford, the Tory editor of the And- 


Jacobin and the Quarterly Review, as also the com- 
mendations both speakers bestow upon Canning. 
From the whole history of the formation of the 
Carabas party, too, it is obvious that it was meant to 
represent the highest of the high Tories. But the 
Toryism of the Carabas party was not to be the 
Toryism of Lord Liverpool. It is clear that some- 
thing is added to the old Toryism, but in Vivian 
Grey it was a counterfeit, a mistaken view of the 
new principles ; it is left for Coningsby to develop 
the real creed. But more than all is it certain that 
the Tories were considered par excellence the Party 
by the young Disraeli, because he hardly seems to 
regard the Whigs seriously at all, or at all events 
only as those with whom * we have nothing to do.' 
A curious instance of Disraeli's anxiety to make 
this clear is shown in his alteration of the speech of 
the Marquess of Carabas at the dinner. In the first 
edition the Marquess takes too much wine, and makes 
a disconnected and maudlin speech, which consists of 
meaningless phrases ; in the later edition, in order to 
mark the fact that the Carabas party is a branch of 
the Tory party, the author makes him say, in the 
course of his speech, ' There are few distinctions now 
between the two sides of the House of Commons, 
very different from the times in which most, I 
believe all, of us, my Lords and Gentlemen, were 
members of that assembly. The question then 
naturally arises, why a certain body of individuals, 
who now represent no opinions, should arrogate 
to themselves the entire government and control of 
the country ? A second question would occur, how 
they contrive to succeed in such an assumption ? 
They succeed clearly because the party who placed 
them in power, because they represented certain 



opinions, still continue their support. Some of the 
most influential members of that party, I am bold 
to say, may be found in this room.' As to the 
question of who were to be the regenerators of the 
Tory party, can we hesitate for an answer ? It was 
scarcely to be the Marquess of Carabas or Lord 
Courtown as represented in the novel, it could not 
well be Vivian Grey, as he is there shown. What 
are the author's reflections in the fifth book when 
Vivian's political escapade has ended in failure, 
and he is seeking to recuperate his shattered mind 
and body in the romantic town of Heidelberg ? 
' Experience,' he says, ' mysterious spirit ! whose 
result is felt by all, whose nature is described by 
none. The father warns the son of your approach, 
and sometimes looks to you as his offspring's cure, 
and his own consolation. We hear of you in the 
nursery, we hear of you in the world, we hear of 
you in books ; but who has recognised you until he 
was your subject, and who has discovered the object 
of so much fame until he has kissed your chain ? To 
gain you is the work of all, and the curse of all ; 
you are at the same time necessary to our happiness, 
and destructive of our felicity ; you are the saviour 
of all things, and the destroyer of all things; our 
best friend and our bitterest enemy ; for you teach 
us truth, and' that truth is despair. Ye youth of 
England, would that ye could read this riddle!' 
And what is the reading of the riddle ? What can 
it be, since experience begets despair, save that youth 
is the season of enthusiasm and of action, but should 
not fail to observe the lessons which experience has 
taught to age ? Again, there is that ejaculation of 
Vivian's father, ' God grant ! that our youth, the 
hope of our State, may not be lost to us ! ' And 



there is the young Grand Duke of Reisenburg, with 
his tutor, ' a young man about ten years older than 
his pupil,' who together conceive and carry into effect 
the reaction against the bad old government of the 
former Margrave. The young men were to be the 
reformers, their principles were to be Tory, and the 
first reforms were needed in the ranks of the aris- 
tocracy themselves. 

Here is the germ of the Young England creed 
appearing in Fivian Grey. Other indications of the 
development of minor points in the creed may be 
found in such incidents as that of the honest yeo- 
man, John Conyers, whose distress and misery 
were caused by the fact that he had been handed 
over as tenant to Lord Mounteney's man of busi- 
ness, Mr. Stapylton Toad. For Lord Mounteney 
was one of those decadent nobles to whom extra- 
vagance and idleness had proved more attractive 
than the discharge of their duties as landowners 
and aristocrats. Here we may see signs of that 
Young England tenet which forms one of the chief 
themes of Coningsby, that the aristocrat is, or should 
be, the protector and leader of his territorial depen- 
dents, and that the yeoman class was still, as in the 
days of the Heptarchy, the backbone of England. 
Again, there is the history of the Grand Duke of 
Reisenburg. For he represented the Monarch as the 
friend and ruler of the people, with a real nobility 
about his throne, and a free and strong representa- 
tive assembly as counsellors. These and others are 
anticipations of the creed afterwards displayed in 
Coningsby, Sybil, and Tancred. The creed is not 
yet formulated, nor has the writer apparently system- 
atised his various enthusiasms ; but the visionary 
outlines are already present to his mind. 



And now, before the reader tests the earliest work of 
Disraeli for himself, there is one more point on which 
the editor should speak. What is the literary stand- 
ing of Disraeli ? It would be idle to pretend that 
he is worthy to rank among the greatest masters 
of fiction, especially in this, his early and even 
puerile work. His English is not above reproach, 
his delineation of character is faulty, his construction 
of plot is weak. What can be claimed for him are 
more subtle excellences than these. Instead of correct 
English, we find in Disraeli, brilliance of expression 
and descriptive power. Instead of faithful delineation 
of character, we find a satirical and impressionist 
manner of presenting his personalities, which makes 
them derive their interest rather from their connection 
with views and opinions than from our likes or 
dislikes of them in themselves. Instead of a well- 
constructed plot, he developes ideas. These powers 
in Vivian Grey are unchastened, unpractised, and 
often unsuccessful, but they are there. It is almost 
unnecessary to quote from the many brilliant phrases 
and fine descriptions to be found even in Vivian 
Grey. The satire of Mr. Stapylton Toad, or 
Mrs. Million, or the Marquess of Carabas will be 
familiar to every reader. The trend of ideas after 
which the crude plot wends its way is capable of 
easy comprehension. Yet perhaps it is unfair to 
claim merits without giving examples of them. 
As regards brilliance of expression Mr. Siever's 
remark, evidently pointed at the New Romanticists, 
' here we write novels like history, and history 
like novels ; all our facts are fancy, and all 
our imagination reality ' ; or the saying of the 
same man that * he who anticipates his century is 
generally persecuted when living, and is always 



pilfered when dead ' ; and as regards descriptive 
passages, that of the unmasking of the cardsharpers 
in book V. chapter XIII., or of the storm in book 
VIII. chapter V., will serve for examples. Of the 
satirical impression of the characters, some instances 
have already been mentioned, but only a reading of the 
book can properly exemplify them. The chief ideas 
which guide the wandering plot of the story are three. 
In Vivian Grey's early history in England, we see 
youth led into error by false confidence in itself 
and its abilities ; in the second part of the story we 
see the history of youth's first real passion and its 
ennobling and purifying effect upon the character ; 
in the third part we trace the final confirmation of 
character brought about by contact with the knaves 
and the fools, the worthy and the wise of European 

The reception of Vivian Grey was remarkable. 
' The town is divided,' wrote a distinguished foreigner 
then resident in London, ' between the death of 
Canning and the appearance of a most singular novel.' 
Guizot, too, commented upon its publication, using 
the words ' La carriere du roman politique est ouverte 
en Angleterre.' Its fame was great in the drawing- 
rooms of Mayfair, but it was also read and discussed in 
the studies of scholars and men of affairs. And what 
is the secret of the success and permanence of this 
boy's book ? It is not merely the caricatures, it is 
certainly not the fascination of the plot, and it is not 
only the dialogue. We must look deeper to find the 
spark of genius, we must look for something which is 
universal and eternal in the life of man. And this 
will be found in the special application of the fall 
through pride and sin, and the regeneration through 
sorrow and time. Vivian Grey fell and worked out 



his regeneration ; there his history breaks off. 
The history of Benjamin Disraeli is continued for 
us to the end. Here in his earliest work he shows 
himself alive to the dangers of his proposed career. 
Here too he outlines his faith and his ideal. 






I AM not aware that the infancy of Vivian Grey was 
distinguished by any extraordinary incident. The 
solicitude of the most affectionate of mothers, and the 
care of the most attentive of nurses, did their best to 
injure an excellent constitution. But Vivian was an 
only child, and these exertions were therefore excus- 
able. For the first five years of his life, Master 
Vivian, with his curly locks and his fancy dress, was 
the pride of his own, and the envy of all neighbouring 
establishments ; but, in process of time, the horrible 
spirit of boyism began to develope itself, and Vivian 
not only would brush his hair ' strait,' and rebel 

against his nurse, but actually insisted upon being 

breeched ! At this crisis it was discovered that he 
had been spoiled, and it was determined that he should 
be sent to school. Mr. Grey observed, also, that the 
child was nearly ten years old, and did not know his 
alphabet, and Mrs Grey remarked, that he was getting 
very ugly. The fate of Vivian was decided. 

' I am told, my dear,' observed Mrs. Grey, one day 
after dinner to her husband, ' I am told, my dear, 


that Dr. Flummery's would do very well for Vivian. 
Nothing can exceed the attention which is paid to the 
pupils. There are sixteen young ladies, all the 
daughters of clergymen, merely to attend to the 
morals and the linen terms very moderate 100 
guineas per annum, for all under six years of age, and 
few extras, only for fencing, pure milk, and the guitar. 
Mrs. Metcalfe has both her boys there, and she says 
their progress is astonishing. Percy Metcalfe, she 
assures me, was quite as backward as Vivian. Ah ! 
indeed, much backwarder ; and so was Dudley 
Metcalfe, who was taught at home on the new system, 
by a pictorial alphabet, and who persisted to the last, 
notwithstanding all the exertions of Miss Barrett, in 
spelling A-P-E monkey, merely because over the 
word, there was a monster munching an apple.' 

' And quite right in the child, my dear. Pic- 
torial alphabet ! pictorial fool's head ! ' 

'But what do you say to Flummery's, Grey?' 

' My dear, do what you like. I never trouble 

myself, you know, about these matters' ; and Mr. 

Grey refreshed himself, after this domestic attack, 

with a glass of claret. 

Mr. Grey was a gentleman who had succeeded, 
when the heat of youth was over, to the enjoy- 
ment of a life interest in an estate of about 2000 
per annum. He was a man of distinguished literary 
abilities, and he had hailed with no slight pleasure 
his succession to a fortune, which, though limited 
in its duration, was still a very great thing for a 
young litterateur about town, not only with no 
profession, but with a mind utterly unfitted for 
every species of business. Grey, to the astonish- 
ment of his former friends, the wits, made an excellent 
domestic match ; and, leaving the whole manage- 


ment of his household to his lady, felt himself as 
independent in his magnificent library as if he had 
never ceased to be that true freeman, A MAN OF 


The young Vivian had not, by the cares which 
fathers are always heirs to, yet reminded his parent 
that boys were anything else but playthings. 
The intercourse between father and son was, of 
course, extremely limited ; for Vivian was, as yet, 
the mother's child ; Mr. Grey's parental duties 
being confined to giving his son a glass of claret 
per diem> pulling his ears with all the awkwardness 
of literary affection, and trusting to God ' that the 
urchin would never scribble.' 

* I won't go to school, Mamma,' bawled Vivian. 

' But you must, my love,' answered Mrs. Grey ; 
' all good boys go to school ; ' and in the plenitude 
of a mother's love she tried to make her off- 
spring's hair curl. 

' I won't have my hair curl, Mamma ; the boys 
will laugh at me,' rebawled the beauty. 

* Now who could have told the child that ? ' 
monologised Mamma, with all a Mamma's admira- 

* Charles Appleyard told me so ; his hair curled, 
and the boys called him girl. Papa! give me 
some more claret ; 1 won't go to school.' 



THREE or four years passed over, and the mind of 
Vivian Grey most astonishingly developed itself. 
He had long ceased to wear frills, had broached the 
subject of boots three or;, four times, made 9 sad 



inroad during the holidays in Mr. Grey's aforesaid 
bottle of claret, and was reported as having once 
sworn at the footman. The young gentleman began 
also to hint, during every vacation, that the fellows 
at Flummery's were somewhat too small for his com- 
panionship, and (first bud of puppyism !) the former 
advocate of straight hair now expended a portion of 
his infant income in the purchase of Macassar oil, 
and began to cultivate his curls. Mrs. Grey could 
not entertain for a moment the idea of her son's 
associating with children, the eldest of whom, (to 
adopt his own account) was not above eight years 
old ; so Flummery's, it was determined, he should 
leave. But where to go ? Mr. Grey wished Eton, 
but his lady was one of those women whom nothing 
in the world can persuade that a public school is 
anything else but a place where boys are roasted 
alive ; and so with tears, and taunts, and supplica- 
tions, the point of private education was conceded. 
As for Vivian himself, he was for Eton, and Win- 
chester, and Harrow, and Westminster, all at once ; 
the only point that he made was, ' not Rugby, it was 
so devilish blackguard.' 

At length it was resolved that the only hope, should 
remain at home a season, until some plan should be 
devised for the cultivation of his promising under- 
standing. During this year, Vivian became a some- 
what more constant intruder into the library than 
heretofore ; and living so much among books, he 
was insensibly attached to those silent companions, 
that speak so eloquently. 

How far the character of the parent may influence 
the character of the child, I leave the metaphysician 
to ckcide. Sure I am, that the character of Vivian 
Grey underwent, at this period of his life, a sensible, 



a prodigious change. Doubtless, constant communion 
with a mind highly refined, severely cultivated, and 
much experienced, cannot but produce a most bene- 
ficial impression, even upon a mind formed, and upon 
principles developed : how infinitely greater must the 
influence of such communion be upon a youthful 
heart, ardent, innocent and inexperienced ! As 
Vivian was not to figure in the microcosm of a public 
school, a place for which, from his temper, he was 
almost better fitted than any young genius whom the 
' playing fields ' of Eton, or ' the hills ' of Winton, 
can remember ; there was some difficulty in fixing 
upon his future Academus. Mr. Grey's two axioms 
were, first, that no one so young as his son should 
settle in the metropolis, and that Vivian must con- 
sequently not have a private tutor ; and, secondly, 
that all private schools were quite worthless ; and, 
therefore there was every probability of Vivian not 
receiving any education whatever. 

At length, an exception to axiom second started 
up in the establishment of the Reverend Everard 
Dallas. This gentleman was a clergyman of the 
Church of England, a profound Grecian, and a poor 
man. He had edited the Alcestis, and married his 
laundress lost money by his edition, and his fellow- 
ship by his match. In a few days, the hall of Mr. 
Grey's London mansion was filled with all sorts of 
portmanteaus, trunks, and travelling cases, directed 
in a boy's sprawling hand to ' Vivian Grey, Esquire, 
at the Reverend Everard Dallas, Burnsley Vicarage, 

' God bless you, my boy ! write to your mother 
soon, and remember your Journal.' 




THE rumour of the arrival of 'a new fellow,' cir- 
culated with rapidity through the inmates of Burnsley 
Vicarage, and about fifty young devils were preparing 
to quiz the newcomer, when the school-room door 
opened, and Mr. Dallas, accompanied by Vivian, 

' A dandy, by Jove ! ' whispered St. Leger Smith. 
'What a knowing set out,' squeaked Johnson secundus. 
4 Mammy-sick,' growled Barlow primus. This last 
exclamation was, however, a most scandalous libel, 
for certainly no being ever stood in a pedagogue's 
presence with more perfect sang froid, and with a 
bolder front, than did, at this moment, Vivian Grey. 

One principle in Mr Dallas' regime, was always to 
introduce a new-comer in school-hours. He was 
thus carried immediately in medias res, and the curi- 
osity of his co-mates being in a great degree satisfied, 
at a time when that curiosity could not personally 
annoy him, the new-comer was, of course, much 
better prepared to make his way, when the absence 
of the ruler became a signal for some oral conversation 
with ' the arrival.' 

However, in the present instance the young savages 
to Burnsley Vicarage had caught a Tartar ; and in a 
very few days Vivian Grey was decidedly the most 
popular fellow in the school. He was ' so dashing ! 
as devilish good-tempered ! so completely up to 
everything !' The magnates of the land were cer- 
tainly rather jealous of his success, but their very 
sneers bore witness '.to his popularity. ' Cursed 
puppy,' said St. Leger Smith. ' Thinks himself 



knowing,' squeaked Johnson secundus. 'Thinks him- 
self witty,' growled Barlow primus. 

Notwithstanding this cabal, days rolled on at 
Burnsley Vicarage only to witness the increase of 
Vivian's popularity. Although more deficient than 
most of his own age in accurate classical knowledge, 
he found himself in talents, and various acquirements, 
immeasurably their superior. And singular is it, that 
at school, distinction in such points is ten thousand 
times more admired by the multitude, than the most 
profound knowledge of Greek Metres, or the most 
accurate acquaintance with the value of Roman coins. 
Vivian Grey's English verses, and Vivian Grey's 
English themes, were the subject of universal com- 
mendation. Some young lads made copies of these 
productions, to enrich, at the Christmas holidays, 
their sisters' albums; while the whole school were 
scribbling embryo prize-poems, epics of twenty lines 
on ' the Ruins of Paestum,' and ' the Temple of 
Minerva ; ' ' Agrigentum,' and * the Cascade of 
Terni.' I suppose that Vivian's productions at this 
time, would have been rejected by the commonest 
twopenny publication about town yet they turned 
the brain of the whole school ; while fellows who 
were writing Latin Dissertations, and Greek Odes 
which might have made the fortune of the Classical 
Journal, were looked on by the multitude as as great 
dunderheads as themselves : and such is the advan- 
tage which, even in this artificial world, every thing 
that is genuine has over every thing that is false and 
forced. The dunderheads who wrote ' good Latin,' 
and ' Attic Greek,' did it by a process, by means of 
which, the youngest fellow in the school was con- 
scious he could, if he chose, attain at the same per- 
fection. Vivian Grey's verses were unlike any thing 



which had yet appeared in the Literary Annals of 
Burnsley Vicarage, and that which was quite novel 
was naturally thought quite excellent. 

There is no place in the world where greater hom- 
age is paid to talent than at an English school. At 
a public school, indeed, if a youth of great talents is 
blessed with an amiable and generous disposition, he 
ought not to envy the minister of England. If any 
captain of Eton, or praefect of Winchester, is reading 
these pages, I would most earnestly entreat him dis- 
passionately to co'nsider, in what situation of life he 
can rationally expect that it will be in his power to 
exercise such .influence, to have such opportunities 
of obliging others, and be so confident of an affection- 
ate and grateful return. Aye, there 's the rub ! 
Bitter, bitter thought! that gratitude should cease 
the moment we become men. 

And sure I am, that Vivian Grey was loved as 
ardently, and as faithfully, as you might expect from 
innocent young hearts. His slight accomplishments 
were the standard of all perfection ; his sayings were 
the soul of all good fellowship ; and his opinion, the 
guide in any crisis which occurred in the monotonous 
existence of the little commonwealth. And time 
flew gaily on. 

One winter evening, as Vivian, with some of his 
particular cronies, was standing round the school- 
room fire, they began, as all schoolboys do when it 
grows rather dark, and they grow rather sentimental 
to talk of HOME. 

* Twelve weeks more,' said Augustus Etherege 
' twelve weeks more, and we are free ! The glorious 


day should be celebrated.' 

' A feast, a feast ! ' exclaimed Poynings. 

'A feast is but the work of a night,' said Vivian 


Grey : something more stirring for me ! What say 
you to private theatricals ?' 

The proposition was, of course, received with 
enthusiasm, and it was not until they had unani- 
mously agreed to act, that they universally remembered 
that acting was not allowed. And then they consulted 
whether they should ask Dallas, and then they re- 
membered that Dallas had been asked fifty times, 
and then they ' supposed they must give it up ' ; and 
then Vivian Grey made a proposition which the rest 
were secretly sighing for, but which they were afraid 
to make themselves he proposed that they should 
act without asking Dallas. ' Well, then, we'll do it 
without asking him,' said Vivian ; ' Nothing's 
allowed in this life, and every thing is done : in 
town there's a thing called the French play, and 
that's not allowed, yet my aunt has got a private 
box there. Trust me for acting but what shall we 
perform ? ' 

This question was, as usual, the fruitful source of 
jarring opinions. One proposed Othello, chiefly 
because it would be so easy to black a face with a 
burnt cork. Another was for Hamlet, solely be- 
cause he wanted to act the ghost, which he proposed 
doing in white shorts and a night-cap. A third was 
for Julius Cassar, because the murder scene ' would 
be such fun ! ' 

* No ! no ! ' said Vivian, tired of these various and 
varying proposals, ' this will never do. Out upon 
Tragedies : let's have a Comedy ! ' 

'A Comedy! a Comedy! oh! how delightful!' 




AFTER an immense number of propositions, and an 
equal number of repetitions, Dr. Hoadley's bustling 
drama was fixed upon. Vivian was to act Ranger, 
Augustus Etherege was to personate Clarinda, be- 
cause he was a fair boy and always blushing ; and 
the rest of the characters found able representatives. 
Every half-holiday was devoted to rehearsals, and 
nothing could exceed the amusement and thorough 
fun which all the preparations elicited. Every thing 
went well Vivian wrote a most pathetic Prologue, 
and a most witty Epilogue. Etherege got on 
capitally in the mask scene, and Poynings was 
quite perfect in Jack Meggot. There was, of course, 
some difficulty in keeping all things in order, but 
then Vivian Grey was such an excellent manager ! 
and then, with infinite tact, the said manager con- 
ciliated the classiques, for he allowed St. Leger Smith 
to select a Greek motto, from the Andromache, if 
I remember right, for the front of the theatre ; and 
Johnson secundus and Barlow primus were compli- 
mented by being allowed to act the chairmen. 

But, alas ! in the midst of all this sunshine, the 
seeds of discord and dissension were fast flourishing. 
Mr. Dallas himself was always so absorbed in some 
freshly imported German commentator, that it was a 
fixed principle with him, never to trouble himself 
with any thing that concerned his pupils, ' out of 
school hours.' The consequence was, that certain 
powers were necessarily delegated to a certain set 
of beings called USHERS. In the necessity of em- 
ploying this horrible race of human beings, consists, 



in a great measure, the curse of what is called, 
private education. Those, who, in all the fulness of 
parental love, guard their offspring from the 
imagined horrors of a public school, forget that, in 
having recourse to ' an Academy for Young Gentle- 
men,' they are necessarily placing their children under 
the influence of blackguards : it is of no use to mince 
the phrase such is the case. And is not the con- 
tagion of these fellows' low habits and loose principles 
much more to be feared and shunned, than a system, 
in which, certainly, greater temptations are offered to 
an imprudent lad ; but under whose influence boys 
usually become gentlemanly in their habits and 
generous in their sentiments ? 

The usherian rule had, however, always been com- 
paratively light at Burnsley Vicarage, for the good 
Dallas never, for a moment, entrusting the duties of 
tuition to a third person, engaged these deputies 
merely as a sort of police, to regulate the bodies, 
rather than the minds, of his youthful subjects. One 
of the first principles of the new theory introduced 
into the establishment of Burnsley Vicarage by Mr. 
Vivian Grey, was, that the ushers were to be con- 
sidered by the boys as a species of upper servants ; 
were to be treated with civility, certainly, as all 
servants are by gentlemen ; but that no further atten- 
tion was to be paid them, and that any fellow volun- 
tarily conversing with an usher, was to be cut dead 
by the whole school. This pleasant arrangement 
was no secret to those whom it most immediately 
concerned, and, of course, rendered Vivian rather a 
favourite with them. The men, who were suffici- 
ently vulgars, had not the tact to conciliate the boy 
by a little attention, and were both, notwithstanding, 
too much afraid of his influence in the school to 



attack him openly ; so they waited with that patience 
which insulted beings can alone endure. 

One of these creatures must not be forgotten; his 
name was Mallett ; he was a perfect specimen of the 
genuine usher. The monster wore a black coat and 
waistcoat; the residue of his costume was of that 
mysterious colour known by the name of pepper- 
and-salt. He was a pallid wretch with a pug nose, 
white teeth, and marked with the small-pox ; and 
long greasy black hair ; and small black, beady eyes. 
This daemon watched the progress of the theatrical 
company with eyes gloating with vengeance. No 
attempt had been made to keep the fact of the re- 
hearsal a secret from the police ; no objection, on 
their part, had as yet been made ; the twelve weeks 
diminished to six ; Ranger had secretly ordered a 
dress from town, and was to get a steel handled 
sword from Fentum's for Jack Meggot : and every 
thing was proceeding with unexpected success, when 
one morning, as Mr. Dallas was apparently about to 
take his departure, with a volume of Becker's Thu- 
cydides under his arm, the respected Dominie 
stopped, and thus harangued : ' I am informed that 
a great deal is going on in this family, with which it 
is intended that I shall be unacquainted. It is not 
my intention to name any body or any thing at pre- 
sent ; but I must say that of late the temper of this 
family has sadly changed. Whether there be any 
seditious stranger among you or not, I shall not at 
present even endeavour to discover ; but I will warn 
my old friends of their new ones : ' and so saying, the 
Dominie withdrew. 

All eyes were immediately fixed on Vivian, and 
the faces of the Classiques were triumphant with 
smiles ; those of the manager's particular friends, 


\hz_Romantiques, we may call them, were clouded ; 
but who shall describe the countenance of Mallett ? 
In a moment the school broke up with an agitated 
and tumultuous uproar. ' No stranger ! ' shouted 
St. Leger Smith ; ' No stranger ! ' vociferated a pre- 
pared gang. Vivian's friends were silent, for they 
hesitated to accept for their leader the insulting title. 
Those, who were neither Vivian's friends, nor in the 
secret, weak creatures who side always with the 
strongest, immediately swelled the insulting chorus 
of Mr. St. Leger Smith. That worthy, emboldened 
by his success and the smiles of Mallett, contained 
himself no longer : ' Down with the manager ! ' he 
cried. His satellites chorussed. But now Vivian 
rushed forward. ' Mr. Smith, I thank you for being 
so definite ; take that ! ' and he struck Smith with 
such force that the Cleon staggered and fell ; but 
Smith instantly recovered, and a ring was as instantly 
formed. To a common observer, the combatants 
were most unequally matched ; for Smith was a 
burley, big-limbed animal, alike superior to Grey in 
years and strength. But Vivian, though delicate in 
frame, and more youthful, was full his match in 
spirit, and, thanks to his being a Cockney ! ten times 
his match in science. He had not built a white great 
coat, nor drunk blue ruin at Ben Burn's for nothing ! 
Oh ! how beautifully he fought ! how admirably 
straight he hit ! and his stops quick as lightning ! and 
his fallowings up confounding his adversary with their 
painful celerity ! Smith, alike puzzled and punished, 
yet proud in his strength, hit round, and wild, and 
false, and foamed like a furious elephant. For ten 
successive rounds the result was dubious ; but in 
the eleventh the strength of Smith began to fail, and 
the men were more fairly matched. ' Go it, Ranger ! 



go it, Ranger ! ' halloed the Greyites. ' No 
stranger ! no stranger ! ' eagerly bawled the more 
numerous party. 'Smith's floored, by Jove!' ex- 
claimed Poynings, who was Grey's second. ' At it 
again ! at it again ! ' exclaimed all. And now, when 
Smith must certainly have given in, suddenly stepped 

forward Mr. Mallett, accompanied by Dallas ! 

' How, Mr. Grey ! No answer Sir ; I understand 
that you have always an answer ready. I do not 
quote Scripture lightly Mr. Grey ; but " Take heed 
that you offend not, even with your tongue." Now, 
Sir, to your room.' 

When Vivian Grey again joined his companions he 
found himself almost universally shunned. Etherege 
and Poynings were the only individuals who met him 
with their former frankness. 'A horrible row, Grey,' 
said the latter. ' After you went, the Doctor har- 
angued the whole school, and swears you have 
seduced and ruined us all : every thing was happi- 
ness until you came, &c. Mallett is of course at the 
bottom of the whole business : but what can we do ? 
Dallas says you have the tongue of a serpent, and 
that he will not trust himself to hear your defence. 
Infamous shame ! I swear ! And now every fellow 
has got a story against you : some say you are a 
dandy others want to know, whether the next piece 
performed at your theatre will be " "The Stranger ;" 
as for myself and Etherege, we shall leave in a few 
weeks, and it does not signify to us ; but what the 
devil you're to do next half, by Jove, I can't say. 
If I were you, I would not return.' ' Not return, 
eh ! but that will I, though ; and we shall see who, in 
future, can complain of the sweetness of my voice ! 
Ungrateful fools ! ' 



THE Vacation was over, and Vivian returned to 
Burnsley Vicarage. He bowed cavalierly to Mr. 
Dallas on his arrival, and immediately sauntered up 
into the school-room, where he found a tolerable 
quantity of wretches looking as miserable as school- 
boys, who have left their pleasant homes, generally 
do, for some four-and-twenty hours. ' How d'ye 
do, Grey?' ( How d'ye do, Grey?' burst from 
a knot of unhappy fellows, who would have felt 
quite delighted, had their newly arrived co-mate 
condescended to entertain them, as usual, with 
some capital good story fresh from town. But they 
were disappointed. 

' We can make room for you at the fire, Grey,' 
said Theophilus King. 

' I thank you, I am not cold.' 

' I suppose you know that Poynings and Etherege 
don't come back, Grey ? ' 

' Every body knew that last half : ' and so he 
walked on. 

' Grey, Grey ! ' halloed King, ' don't go in the 
dining-room ; Mallett's there alone, and told us not 
to disturb him. By Jove, the fellow's going in : 
there'll be a greater row this half, between Grey and 
Mallett, than ever.' 

Days the heavy first days of the half, rolled on, 
and all the citizens of the little commonwealth had 

' What a dull half this will be ! ' said Eardley ; 
'how one misses Grey's set! After all, they kept 
the school alive: Poynings was a first-rate fellow; 



and Etherege, so deuced good-natured! I wonder 
whom Grey will crony with this half! Have you 
seen him and Dallas speak together yet ? He cut 
the Doctor quite dead at Greek to-day.' 

' Why, Eardley ! Eardley ! there's Grey walking 
round playing fields with Mallett ! ' halloed a sawney 
who was killing the half-holiday by looking out of 
the window. 

' The devil ! I say, Matthews, whose flute is that ? 
It's a devilish handsome one ! ' 

' It's Grey's ! I clean it for him,' squeaked a little 
boy. ' He's gives me sixpence a week ! ' 

* Oh, you sneak ! ' said one. 

' Cut him over ! ' said another. 

' Roast him ! ' cried a third. 

' Whom are you going to take the flute to ? ' 
asked a fourth. 

' To Mallett,' squeaked the little fellow ; ' Grey 
lends his flute to Mallett every day.' ' Grey lend 
his flute to Mallett ! The deuce he does ! So Grey 
and Mallett are going to crony '?' 

A wild exclamation burst forth from the little 
party ; and away each of them ran, to spread, in all 
directions, the astounding intelligence. 

If the rule of the ushers had hitherto been light 
at Burnsley Vicarage, its character was materially 
changed during this half-year. The vexatious and 
tyrannical influence of Mallett was now experienced 
in all directions ; meeting and interfering with the 
comforts of the boys, in every possible manner. His 
malice was accompanied too by a tact, which could 
not have been expected from his vulgar mind, and 
which, at the same time, could not have been pro- 
duced by the experience of one in his situation. It 
was quite evident to the whole community that his 



conduct was dictated by another mind, and that that 
mind was one versed in all the secrets of a school- 
boy's life, and acquainted with all the workings of a 
school-boy's mind : a species of knowledge which no 
pedagogue in the world ever yet attained. There 
was no difficulty in discovering whose was the power 
behind the throne. Vivian Grey was the perpetual 
companion of Mallett in his walks, and even in the 
school ; he shunned also the converse of every one 
of the boys, and did not affect to conceal that his 
quarrel was universal. Superior power, exercised by 
a superior mind, was for a long time too much even 
for the united exertions of the whole school. If any 
one complained, Mallett's written answer (and such 
Dallas always required) was immediately ready, ex- 
plaining every thing in the most satisfactory manner, 
and refuting every complaint with the most trium- 
phant spirit. Dallas, of course, supported his deputy, 
and was soon equally detested. This tyranny had 
continued through a great part of the long half-year, 
and the spirit of the school was almost broken, when 
a fresh outrage occurred, of such a nature, that the 
nearly enslaved multitude conspired. 

The plot was admirably formed. On the first bell 
ringing for school, the door was to be immediately 
barred, to prevent the entrance of Dallas. Instant 
vengeance was then to be taken on Mallett and his 
companion the sneak ! the spy ! the traitor ! The 
bell rang : the door was barred : four stout fellows 
seized on Mallett, four rushed to Vivian Grey : but 
stop ! he sprang upon his desk, and, placing his back 
against the wall, held a pistol at the foremost! "Not 
an inch nearer, Smith, or I fire. Let me not, how- 
ever, baulk your vengeance on yonder hound ; if I 
could suggest any refinements in torture, they would 
P 17 


be at your service." Vivian Grey smiled, while the 
horrid cries of Mallett indicated that the boys were 
' roasting ' him. He then walked to the door, and 
admitted the barred-out Dominie. Silence was 
restored. There was an explanation, and no defence ; 
and Vivian Grey was expelled. 



VIVIAN GREY was now seventeen ; and, the system 
of private education having so decidedly failed, it was 
resolved that he should spend the years antecedent to 
his going to Oxford, at home. Nothing could be a 
greater failure than the first weeks of his ' course of 
study' He was perpetually violating the sanctity of 
the drawing-room by the presence of Scapulas and 
Hederics, and outraging the propriety of morning 
visitors by bursting into his mother's boudoir, with 
Lexicons and green slippers. 

* Vivian, my dear,' said his father to him one day, 
' this will never do ; you must adopt some system for 
your studies, and some locality for your reading. 
Have a room to yourself; set apart certain hours in 
the day for your books, and allow no consideration 
on earth to influence you to violate their sacredness ; 
and above all, my dear boy, keep your papers in 
order. I find a Dissertation on ' The Commerce of 
Carthage,' stuck in my large paper copy of ' Dibdin's 
Decameron, and an ' Essay on the Metaphysics of 
Music' (pray, my dear fellow, beware of magazine- 
scribbling) cracking the back of Montfaucon's 
' Monarchic.' ' 

Vivian apologised, promised, protested, and finally 
sat down ' TO READ.' He had laid the first founda- 



tions of accurate classical knowledge under the 
tuition of the learned Dallas ; and twelve hours a- 
day, and self-banishment from society, overcame, in 
twelve months, the ill effects of his imperfect educa- 
tion. The result of this extraordinary exertion may 
easily be conceived. At the end of twelve months, 
Vivian, like many other young enthusiasts, had dis- 
covered that all the wit and wisdom of the world 
were concentrated in some fifty antique volumes, and 
he treated the unlucky moderns with the most 
sublime spirit of hauteur imaginable. A chorus in 
the Medea, that painted the radiant sky of Attica, 
disgusted him with the foggy atmosphere of Great 
Britain ; and while Mrs. Grey was meditating a 
sejour at Brighton, her son was dreaming of the gulf 
of Salamis. The spectre in the Persae was his only 
model for a ghost, and the furies in the Agamemnon 
were his perfection of tragical machinery. 

Most ingenious and educated youths have fallen 
into the same error ; but few, I trust, have ever 
carried such feelings to the excess that Vivian Grey 
did ; for while his mind was daily becoming more 
enervated under the beautiful but baneful influence of 
CLASSIC REVERIE, the youth lighted upon PLATO. 

Wonderful is it, that while the whole soul of Vivian 
Grey seemed concentrated and wrapped in the glorious 
pages of the Athenian, while, with keen and almost 
inspired curiosity, he searched, and followed up, and 
meditated upon, the definite mystery, the indefinite 
developement, while his spirit alternately bowed in 
trembling and in admiration, as he seemed to be listen- 
ing to the secrets of the Universe revealed in the 
glorious melodies of an immortal voice ; wonderful 
is it, I say, that the writer, the study of whose works 
appeared to the young scholar, in the revelling of his 



enthusiasm, to be the sole object for which man was 
born and had his being, was the cause by which Vivian 
Grey was saved from being all his life a dreaming 

Determined to spare no exertions, and to neglect 
no means, by which he might enter into the very 
penetralia of his mighty master's meaning, Vivian 
determined to attack the latter Platonists. These 
were a race of men with whom he was perfectly un- 
acquainted, and of whose existence he knew merely 
by the references to their productions, which were 
sprinkled in the commentaries of his 'best editions.' 
In the pride of boyish learning, Vivian had limited his 
library to Classics, and the proud leaders of the later 
schools did not consequently grace his diminutive 
book-case. In this dilemma he flew to his father, 
and confessed by his request that his favourites were 
not all-sufficient. 

* Father ! I wish to make myself master of the 
latter Platonists. I want Plotinus, and Porphyry, and 
lamblichus, and Syrianus, and Maximus Tyrius, 
and Proclus, and Hierocles, and Sallustius, and 

Mr. Grey stared at his son, and burst into a fit of 

4 My dear Vivian ! are you quite convinced that 
the authors you ask for are all pure Platonists ? or 
have not some of them placed the great end rather in 
practical than theoretic virtue, and thereby violated the 
first principles of your master, which would be very 
shocking ! Are you sure, too, that these gentlemen 
have actually ' withdrawn the sacred veil, which covers 
from profane eyes the luminous spectacles ?* Are you 
quite convinced that every one of these worthies lived 
at least five hundred years after the great master ; for 



I need not tell so profound a Platonist as yourself, 
that it was not till that period that even glimpses of 
the great master's meaning were discovered. Strange ! 
that TIME should alike favour the philosophy of theory, 
and the philosophy of facts. Mr. Vivian Grey, 
benefiting, I presume, by the lapse of further cen- 
turies, is about to complete the great work which 
Proclus and Porphyry commenced.' 

' My dear sir, you are pleased to be very amusing 
this morning.' 

' My dear boy ! I smile, but not with joy. Sit down, 
and let us have a little conversation together. Father 
and son, and father and son on such terms as we are, 
should really communicate oftener together than we 
do. It has been, perhaps, my fault; it shall not be so 

' My dear sir ! ' 

' Nay, nay, it shall be my fault now. Whose it 
shall be in future^ Vivian, time will show. My dear 
Vivian, you have now spent upwards of a year under 
this- roof, and your conduct has been as correct as 
the most rigid parent might require. I have not 
wished to interfere with the progress of your mind, and 
I regret it. I have been negligent, but not wilfully so. 
I do regret it ; because, whatever may be your powers, 
Vivian, I at least have the advantage of experience. I 
see you smile at a word which I so often use. Well, 
well, were I to talk to you for ever, you would not 
understand what I mean by that single word. The 
time will come, when you will deem that single word 
every thing. Ardent young men in their closets, 
Vivian, too often fancy that they are peculiar beings ; 
and I have no reason to believe that you are an ex- 
ception to the general rule. In passing one whole 
year of your life, as you have done, you doubtless 



imagine that you have been spending your hours in a 
manner which no others have done before. Trust 
me, my boy, thousands have done the same ; and, 
what is of still more importance, thousands are doing, 
and will do the same. Take the advice of one who 
has committed as many, ay, more follies than your- 
self ; but who would bless the hour that he had been 
a fool, if his experience might be of benefit to his 
beloved son.' 

' My father ! ' 

'Nay, nay, don't agitate yourself; we are consult- 
ing together. Let us see what is to be done. 
Endeavour to discover, when you are alone, what are 
the chief objects of your existence in this world. I 
want you to take no theological dogmas for granted, 
nor to satisfy your doubts by ceasing to think; but 
whether we are in this world in a state of probation 
for another, or whether we cease altogether when we 
cease to breathe, human feelings tell me that we 
have some duties to perform to our fellow-creatures 
to our friends to ourselves. Pray, tell me, my 
dear boy, what possible good your perusal of the 
latter Platonists can produce to either of these three 
interests ? I trust that my child is not one of those 
who look with a glazed eye on the welfare of their 
fellow-men, and who would dream away an useless 
life by idle puzzles of the brain ; creatures who 
consider their existence as an unprofitable mystery, 
and yet are afraid to die. You will find Plotinus in 
the fourth shelf of the next room, Vivian. Good 
morning to you.' 





THE communications between father and son after 
this day were very constant ; and for some weeks 
Vivian employed his time rather in conversing with 
his father than with books. It must not be concealed 
(and when the fact is stated, it must not be conceived 
that Vivian's mind was a weak one) that his fixed 
principles became daily loosened, and that his opinions 
were very soon considerably modified. He speedily 
began to discover that there were classics in other 
languages besides Greek and Latin, and patient in- 
quiry and dispassionate examination soon convinced 
him of the futility of that mass of insanity and im- 
posture the Greek philosophy. Introduced to that 
band of noble spirits, the great poets, and legislators, 
and philosophers of modern Europe, the mind of 
Vivian Grey recovered, in a study of their immortal 
writings, a great portion of its original freshness and 
primal vigour. Nor in his new worship did he 
blaspheme against the former objects of his adoration. 
He likened the ancient and the new literatures to the 
two Dispensations of Holy Writ : the one arose to 
complete the other. ^Eschylus was to him not less 
divine, because Shakspeare was immortal ; nor did 
he deny the inspiration of Demosthenes, because he 
recognised in Burke the divine afflatus. The ancient 
literature, lost in corruption, degraded, and forgotten, 
ceased to benefit society; the new literature arose. 
It hurled from ' the high places,' the idols of corrupt 
understandings and perverted taste ; but while ' it 
purified the altars of the Lord,' while it commanded 
our reverence and our gratitude, the new literature 

2 3 


itself vailed to the first grey fathers of the human 



IN England, personal distinction is the only passport 
to the society of the great. Whether this distinction 
arise from fortune, family, or talent, is immaterial ; 
but certain it is, to enter into high society, a man 
must either have blood, a million, or a genius. 

Neither the fortune nor the family of Mr. Grey 
entitled him to mix in any other society than that of, 
what is, in common parlance, termed, the middling 
classes ; but from his distinguished literary abilities 
he had always found himself an honoured guest 
among the powerful and the great. It was for this 
reason that he had always been anxious that his son 
should be at home as little as possible ; for he feared 
for a youth the fascination of London society. Al- 
though busied with his studies, and professing ' not 
to visit,' Vivian could not avoid occasionally finding 
himself in company, in which boys should never be 
seen ; and, what was still worse, from a certain esprit 
de socittt, an indefinable tact^ with which Nature had 
endowed him, this boy of nineteen began to think 
this society very delightful. Most persons of his 
age would have passed through the ordeal with 
perfect safety : they would have entered certain 
rooms, at certain hours, with stiff cravats, and Nugee 
coats, and black velvet waistcoats ; and after having 
annoyed all those who condescended to know of 
their existence, with their red hands, and their white 
kid gloves, they would have retired to a corner of 
the room, and conversationised with any stray four 
year older not yet sent to bed. 



But Vivian Grey was an elegant, lively lad, with 
just enough of dandyism to preserve him from com- 
mitting gaucheries, and with a devil of a tongue. All 
men, I am sure, will agree with me when I say, that 
the only rival to be feared by a man of spirit is a 
clever boy. What makes them so popular with the 
women, it is not for me to explain ; however, Lady 
Julia Knighton, and Mrs. Frank Delmington, and 
half a score of dames of fashion, (and some of them 
very pretty!) were always patronizing our hero, who 
really found an evening spent in their company not 
altogether dull; for there is no fascination so irresis- 
tible to a boy, as the smile of a married woman. 
Vivian had really passed such a recluse life for the 
last two years and a half, that he had quite forgotten 
that he was once considered a very fascinating fellow ; 
and so, determined to discover what right he ever 
had to such a reputation, master Vivian entered into 
all those amourettes in very beautiful style. 

But Vivian Grey was a young and tender plant in 
a moral hot-house. His character was developing 
itself too soon. Although his evenings were now 
generally passed in the manner we have alluded to, 
this boy was, during the rest of the day, a hard and 
indefatigable student ; and having now got through 
an immense series of historical reading, he had 
stumbled upon a branch of study certainly the most 
delightful in the world, but, for a boy, as certainly 
the most pernicious, THE STUDY OF POLITICS. 

And now every thing was solved ! the inexplicable 
longings of his soul, which had so often perplexed 
him, were at length explained. The want, the in- 
definable want, which he had so constantly experienced, 
was at last supplied ; the grand object on which to 
bring the powers of his mind to bear and work was 



at last provided. He paced his chamber in an agi- 
tated spirit, and panted for the Senate. 

It will be asked, what was the evil of all this ? and 
the reader will, perhaps, murmur something about 
an honourable spirit and youthful ambition. Ah ! I 
once thought so myself but the evil is too apparent. 
The time drew nigh for Vivian to leave for Oxford 
that is, for him to commence his long preparation for 
entering on his career in life. And now this person, 
who was about to be a pupil this boy, this stripling, 
who was going to begin his education, had all the 
feelings of a matured mind of an experienced man ; 
was already a cunning reader of human hearts; and 
felt conscious, from experience, that his was a tongue 
which was born to guide human beings. The idea of 
Oxford to such an individual was an insult ! 



I MUST endeavour to trace, if possible, more accu- 
rately the workings of Vivian Grey's mind at this 
period of his existence. In the plenitude of his 
ambition, he stopped one day to inquire in what 
manner he could obtain his magnificent ends. 

'THE BAR pooh ! law and bad jokes till we are 
forty ; and then, with the most brilliant success, the 
prospect of gout and a coronet. Besides, to succeed 
as an advocate, I must be a great lawyer ; and, to 
be a great lawyer, I must give up my chance of 
being a great man. THE SERVICES in war time are 
fit only for desperadoes (and that truly am I) ; but, 
in peace, are fit only for fools. THE CHURCH is 
more rational. Let me see ; I should certainly like 
to act Wolsey ; but the thousand and one chances 



against me ! And truly I feel my destiny should 
not be on a chance. Were I the son of a 
Millionaire, or a noble, I might have all. Curse 
on my lot ! that the want of a few rascal counters, 
and the possession of a little rascal blood, should 
mar my fortunes ! " 

Such was the general tenor of Vivian's thoughts, 
until, musing himself almost into madness, he at 
last made, as he conceived, the GRAND DISCOVERY. 
' Riches are Power, says the Economist : and is not 
Intellect? asks the philosopher. And yet, while the 
influence of the Millionaire is instantly felt in all 
classes of society, how is it that " Noble Mind " so 
often leaves us unknown and unhonoured ? Why 
have there been statesmen who have never ruled, 
and heroes who have never conquered ? Why have 
glorious philosohers died in a garret ? and why have 
there been poets whose only admirer has been Nature 
in her echoes ? It must be that these beings have 
thought only of themselves, and, constant and 
elaborate students of their own glorious natures, 
have forgotten or disdained the study of all others. 
Yes ! we must mix with the herd ; we must enter 
into their feelings ; we must humour their weak- 
nesses ; we must sympathise with the sorrows that 
we do not feel ; and share the merriment of fools. 
Oh, yes ! to rule men, we must be men ; to prove 
that we are strong we must be weak ; to prove that 
we are giants, we must be dwarfs : even as the 
Eastern Genie was hid in the charmed bottle. Our 
wisdom must be concealed under folly, and our 
constancy under caprice. 

4 1 have been often struck by the ancient tales 
of Jupiter's visits to the earth. In these fanciful 
adventures, the God bore no indication of the 



Thunderer's glory ; but was a man of low estate, 
a herdsman, or other hind ; and often even an 
animal. A mighty spirit has in Tradition, Time's 
great moralist, perused "the wisdom of the ancients." 
Even in the same spirit, I would explain Jove's 
terrestrial visitings. For, to govern man, even the 
God appeared to feel as a man ; and sometimes as 
a beast, was apparently influenced by their vilest 
passions. Mankind, then, is my great game. 

' At this moment, how many a powerful noble 
wants only wit to be a Minister ; and what wants 
Vivian Grey to attain the same end ? That noble's 
influence. When two persons can so materially 
assist each other, why are they not brought to- 
gether ? Shall I, because my birth baulks my fancy 
shall I pass my life a moping misanthrope in an 
old chateau ? Supposing I am in contact with this 
magnifico, am I prepared ? Now, let me probe my 
very soul. Does my cheek blanch ? I have the 
mind for the conception ; and I can perform right 
skilfully upon the most splendid of musical instru- 
ments the human voice to make those conceptions 
beloved by others. There wants but one thing 
more courage, pure, perfect courage ; and does 
Vivian Grey know fear ? ' He laughed an answer 
of bitterest derision. 



Is any one surprised that Vivian Grey, with a mind 
teeming with such feelings, should view the approach 
of the season for his departure to Oxford, with senti- 
ments of thorough disgust ? After many hours of 
bitter meditation he sought his father ; he made him 



acquainted with his feelings, but concealed from him 
his actual views, and dwelt on the misery of being 
thrown back in life, at a period when society seemed 
instinct with a spirit peculiarly active, and when so 
many openings were daily offered to the adventurous 
and the bold. 

* Vivian,' said Mr. Grey, ' beware of endeavouring 
to be a great man in 'a hurry. One such attempt in 
ten thousand may succeed: these are fearful odds. 
Admirer as you are of Lord Bacon, you may perhaps 
remember a certain parable of his, called " Memnon, 
or a youth too forward." I hope you are not going 
to be one of those sons of Aurora, " who, puffed up 
with the glittering show of vanity and ostentation, 
attempt actions above their strength." 

' You talk to me about the peculiarly active spirit 
of society ; if the spirit of society be so peculiarly 
active, Mr. Vivian Grey should beware lest it outstrip 
him. Is neglecting to mature your mind, my boy, 
exactly the way to win the race ? This is an age of 
unsettled opinions and contested principles : in the 
very measures of our administration, the speculative 
spirit of the present day is, to say the least, not 
impalpable. Nay, don't start, my dear fellow, and 
look the very Prosopopeia of Political Economy ! 
I know exactly what you're going to say, but if you 
please we'll leave Turgot and Galileo to Mr. Canning 
and the House of Commons, or your cousin Har- 
grave and his Debating Society. However, jesting 
apart, get your hat, and walk with me as far as 
Evans's ; where I have promised to look in, to see 
the Mazarin Bible, and we'll talk this affair over as 
we go along. 

' I am no bigot you know, Vivian. I am not one 
of those who wish to oppose the application of refined 



philosophy to the common business of life. We are, 
I hope, an improving race ; there is room, I am sure, 
for great improvement, and the perfectibility of man 
is certainly a very pretty dream. (How well that 
Union Club House comes out now, since they have 
made the opening ;) but, although we may have 
steam kitchens, human nature is, I imagine, much the 
same this moment that we are walking Pall-Mail 
East, as it was some thousands of years ago, when as 
wise men were walking on the banks of the Ilyssus: 
When our moral powers increase in proportion to 
our physical ones, then huzza for the perfectibility of 
man ! and respectable, idle loungers, like you and I, 
Vivian, may then have a chance of walking in the 
streets of London without having their heels trodden 
upon ; a ceremony which I have this moment under- 
gone. In the present day we are all studying science, 
and none of us are studying ourselves. This is not 
exactly the Socratic process ; and as for the yvwOi 
areavTov of the more ancient Athenian, that principle 
is quite out of fashion in the nineteenth century (I 
believe that's the phrase). Self is the only person 
whom we know nothing about. 

' But, my dear Vivian, as to the immediate point 
of our consideration : in my library, uninfluenced 
and uncontrolled by passion or by party, I cannot but 
see that it is utterly impossible that all that we are 
wishing and striving for can take place, without some 
without much evil. In ten years' time, perhaps, 
or less, the fever will have subsided, and in ten years' 
time, or less, your intellect will be matured. Now, 
my good Sir, instead of talking about the active spirit 
of the age, and the opportunities offered to the 
adventurous and the bold, ought you not rather to 
congratulate yourself, that a great change is being 



effected, at a period of your life when you need not, 
individually, be subjected to the possibility of being 
injured by its operation ; and when you are preparing 
your mind to take advantage of the system, when 
that system is matured and organized ? 

' As to your request, it assuredly is one of the 
most modest, and the most rational, that I have lately 
been favoured with. Although I would much rather 
that any influence which I may exercise over your 
mind, should be the effect of my advice as your 
friend, than of my authority as your father ; still I 
really feel it my duty, parentally, to protest against 
this very crude proposition of yours. However, if 
you choose to lose a term or two, do. Don't blame 
me, you know, if afterwards you repent it.' 

Here dashed by the gorgeous equipage of Mrs. 
Ormolu, the wife of a man who was working all the 
gold and silver mines in Christendom. ' Ah ! my 
dear Vivian,' said Mr. Grey, ' it is this which has 
turned all your brains. In this age every one is 
striving to make an immense fortune, and, what is 
most terrific, at the same time, a speedy one. This 
thirst for sudden wealth it is, which engenders the 
extravagant conceptions, and fosters that wild spirit 
of speculation which is now stalking abroad ; and 
which, like the Daemon in Frankenstein, not only 
fearfully wanders over the whole wide face of nature, 
but grins in the imagined solitude of our secret 
chambers. Oh ! my son, it is for the young men of 
the present day that I tremble seduced by the tem- 
porary success of a few children of fortune, I observe 
that their minds recoil from the prospects which are 
held forth by the ordinary, and, mark me, by the 
only modes of acquiring property fair trade, and 
honourable professions. It is for you and your 



companions that I fear. God grant ! that there may 
not be a moral as well as a political disorganization ! 
God grant! that our youth, the hope of our state, 
may not be lost to us ! For, oh ! my son, the 
wisest has said " He that maketh haste to be rich, 
shall not be innocent." Let us step into Clarke's 
and take an ice.' 



THE Marquess of Carabas started in life as the cadet 
of a noble family. The earl, his father, like the 
woodman in the fairy tale, was blessed with three 
sons the first was an idiot, and was destined for the 
Coronet ; the second was a man of business, and was 
educated for the Commons ; the third was a Roue, 
and was shipped to the Colonies. 

The present Marquess, then the Honourable Sidney 
Lorraine, prospered in his political career. He was 
servile, and pompous, and indefatigable, and talka- 
tive so whispered the world : his friends hailed 
him as, at once, a courtier and a sage, a man of 
business, and an orator. After revelling in his fair 
proportion of commissionerships, and under-secretary- 
ships, and the rest of the milk and honey of the 
political Canaan, the apex of the pyramid of his 
ambition was at length visible, for Sidney Lorraine 
became President of a board, and wriggled into the 
adytum of the cabinet. 

At this moment his idiot brother died. To com- 
pensate for his loss of office, and to secure his votes, 
the Earl of Carabas was promoted in the peerage, 
and was presented with some magnificent office - 
c 33 


meaning nothing, swelling with dignity, and void of 
duties. As years rolled on, various changes took 
place in the administration, of which his Lordship 
was once a component part ; and the ministry, to 
their surprise, getting popular, found that the com- 
mand of the Carabas interest was not of such vital 
importance to them as heretofore, and so his Lord- 
ship was voted a bore, and got shelved. Not that 
his Lordship was bereaved of his splendid office, or 
that any thing occurred, indeed, by which the 
uninitiated might have been led to suppose that the 
beams of his Lordship's consequence were shorn ; 
but the Marquess's secret application at the Treasury 
was no longer listened to ; and pert under-secretaries 
settled their cravats, and whispered ' that the Carabas 
interest was gone by.' 

The most noble Marquess was not insensible to his 
situation, for he was what the world calls ambitious ; 
but the vigour of his faculties had vanished beneath 
the united influence of years and indolence and ill- 
humour ; for his Lordship, to avoid ennui, had 
quarrelled with his son, and then having lost his only 
friend, had quarrelled with himself. 

Such was the distinguished individual who graced, 
one day at the latter end of the season of 1 8 , the 
classic board of Horace Grey, Esquire. The reader 
will, perhaps, be astonished, that such a man as his 
Lordship, should be the guest of such a man as our 
hero's father ; but the truth is, the Marquess of 
Carabas had just been disappointed in an attempt on 
the chair of the President of the Royal Society ; 
which, for want of something better to do, he was 
ambitious of filling, and this was a conciliatory visit to 
one of the most distinguished members of that body, 
and one who had voted against him with particular 



enthusiasm. The Marquess, still a politician, was 
now, as he imagined, securing his host's vote for a 
future St. George's day. 

The cuisine of Mr. Grey was superbe; for although 
an enthusiastic advocate for the cultivation of the 
mind, he was an equally ardent supporter of the 
cultivation of the body. Indeed, the necessary 
dependence of the sanity of the one on the good 
keeping of the other, was one of his most favourite 
theories, and one which, this day, he was supporting 
with very pleasant and facetious reasoning. His 
Lordship was delighted with his new friend, and 
still more delighted with his new friend's theory. 
The Marquess himself was, indeed, quite of the same 
opinion as Mr. Grey; for he never made a speech 
without previously taking a sandwich, and would 
have sunk under the estimates a thousand times, 
had it not been for the juicy friendship of the fruit 
of Portugal. 

The guests were not numerous. A regius pro- 
fessor of Greek; an officer just escaped from 
Sockatoo ; a man of science, and two M.P.'s with 
his Lordship ; the host, and Mr. Vivian Grey, 
constituted the party. Oh, no ! there were two 
others. There was a Mr. John Brown, a fashionable 
poet, and who, ashamed of his own name, published 
his melodies under the more euphonious and romantic 
title of ' Clarence Devonshire,' and there was a Mr. 
Thomas Smith, a fashionable novelist ; that is to 
say, a person who occasionally publishes three 
volumes, one-half of which contain the adventures 
of a young gentleman in the country; and the other 
volume and a-half, the adventures of the same young 
gentleman in the metropolis ; a sort of writer, whose 
constant tattle about beer and billiards, and eating 



soup, and the horribility of 'committing' puns, give 
truly a most admirable and accurate idea of the 
conversation of the refined society of the refined 
metropolis of Great Britain. These two last gentle- 
men were ' pets ' of Mrs. Grey. 

The conversation may be conceived. Each person 
was of course prepared with a certain quota of infor- 
mation, without which no man in London is morally 
entitled to dine out; and when the quota was expended, 
the amiable host took the burthen upon his own 
shoulders, and endeavoured, as the phrase goes, 
' to draw out ' his guests. 

Oh, London dinners ! empty artificial nothings ! 
and that beings can be found, and those too the 
flower of the land, who, day after day, and day after 
day, can act the same parts in the same dull, dreary 
farce ! The officer had discoursed sufficiently about 
'his intimate friend, the Soudan,' and about the chain 
armour of the Sockatoo cuirassiers ; and one of the 
M.P.'s, who was in the Guards, had been defeated in 
a ridiculous attempt to prove, that the breast-plates 
of the household troops of Great Britain were superior 
to those of the household troops of Timtomtamtom- 
too. Mrs. Grey, to whose opinion both parties 
deferred, gave it in favour of the Soudan. And the 
man of science had lectured about a machine which 
might destroy fifteen square feet of human beings in 
a second, and yet be carried in the waistcoat-pocket. 
And the Classique, who, for a professor, was quite a 
man of the world, had the latest news of the new 
Herculaneum process, and was of opinion that, if 
they could but succeed in unrolling a certain 
suspicious-looking scroll, we might be so fortunate 
as to possess a minute treatise on &c., &c., &c. 
In short, all had said their say. There was a 



dead pause, and Mrs. Grey looked at her husband 
and rose. 

How singular it is, that when this move takes 
place every one appears to be relieved, and yet every 
one of any experience must be aware that the dead 
bore work is only about to commence. Howbeit, all 
filled their glasses, and the Peer, at the top of the 
table began to talk politics. I am sure that I cannot 
tell what the weighty subject was that was broached 
by the ex-minister ; for I did not dine with Grey 
that day ; and had I done so, I should have been 
equally ignorant ; for I'm a dull man, and always 
sleep at dinner. However, the subject was political, 
the claret flew round, and a stormy argument com- 
menced. The Marquess was decidedly wrong, and 
was sadly badgered by the civil M.P. and the Pro- 
fessor. The host, who was of no party, supported 
his guest as long as possible, and then left him to his 
fate. The military M.P. fled to the drawing-room to 
philander with Mrs. Grey ; and the man of science 
and the African had already retired to the intellectual 
idiotism of a May Fair ' At Home.' The novelist 
was silent, for he was studying a scene and the poet 
was absent, for he was musing a sonnet. 

The Marquess refuted, had recourse to contra- 
diction, and was too acute a man to be insensible to 
the forlornness of his situation ; when, at this moment, 
a voice proceeded from the end of the table, from 
a young gentleman, who had hitherto preserved a 
profound silence, but whose silence, if the company 
were to have judged from the tones of his voice, and 
the matter of his communication, did not altogether 
proceed from a want of confidence in his own abilities. 
' In my opinion,' said Mr. Vivian Grey, as he sat 
lounging in his father's vacated seat * in my opinion, 



his Lordship has been misunderstood ; and it is, as is 
generally the case, from a slight verbal misconception 
in the commencement of this argument, that the 
whole of this difference arises.' 

The eyes of the Marquess sparkled and the 
mouth of the Marquess was closed. He was 
delighted that his reputation might yet be saved ; 
but as he was not perfectly acquainted how that 
salvation was to be effected, he prudently left the 
battle to his youthful champion. 

Mr. Vivian Grey proceeded with the utmost sang 
froid : he commented upon expressions, split and 
subtilized words, insinuated opinions, and finally 
quoted a whole passage of Bolingbroke to prove that 
the opinion of the most noble the Marquess of 
Carabas was one of the soundest, wisest, and most 
convincing of opinions that ever was promulgated by 
mortal man. The tables were turned, the guests 
looked astounded, the Marquess settled his ruffles, 
and perpetually exclaimed, ''Exactly what I meant ! ' 
and his opponents, full of wine, and quite puzzled, 
gave in. 

It was a rule with Vivian Grey, never to advance 
any opinion as his own. He had been too deep a 
student of human nature, not to be aware that the 
opinions of a boy of twenty, however sound, and 
however correct, stood but a poor chance of being 
adopted by his elder, though feebler, fellow-creatures. 
In attaining any end, it was therefore his system 
always to advance his opinion as that of some 
eminent and considered personage ; and when, under 
the sanction of this name, the opinion or advice was 
entertained and listened to, Vivian Grey had no fear 
that he could prove its correctness and its expediency. 
He possessed also the singular faculty of being able to 



improvise quotations, that is, he could unprerneditatedly 
clothe his conceptions in language characteristic of 
the style of any particular author: and Vivian Grey 
was reputed in the world as having the most astonish- 
ing memory that ever existed ; for there was scarcely 
a subject of discussion in which he did not gain the 
victory, by the great names he enlisted on his side of 
the argument. His father was aware of the existence 
of this dangerous faculty, and had often remonstrated 
with his son on the use of it. On the present 
occasion, when the buzz had somewhat subsided, 
Mr. Grey looked smiling to his son, and said : 
' Vivian, my dear, can you tell me in what work of 
Bolingbroke I can find the eloquent passage you 
have just quoted ? ' ' Ask Mr. Hargrave, Sir,' 
replied the son, with the most perfect coolness ; then, 
turning to the member : ' You know, Mr. Hargrave, 
you are reputed the most profound political student 
in the House, and more intimately acquainted than 
any other person with the works of Bolingbroke.' 

Mr. Hargrave knew no such thing ; but he was 
a weak man, and, seduced by the compliment, he 
was afraid to prove himself unworthy of it by con- 
fessing his ignorance of the passage. 

Coffee was announced. 

Vivian did not let the Peer escape him in the 
drawing-room. He soon managed to enter into 
conversation with him ; and certainly the Marquess 
of Carabas never found a more entertaining com- 
panion. Vivian discoursed on a new Venetian 
liqueur, and taught the Marquess how to mull 
Moselle, an operation of which the Marquess had 
never heard (as who has ?) ; and then the flood of 
anecdotes, and little innocent personalities, and the 
compliments so exquisitely introduced, that they 



scarcely appeared to be compliments ; and the voice 
so pleasant, and conciliating, and the quotation from 
the Marquess's own speech! and the wonderful art 
of which the Marquess was not aware, by which, 
during all this time, the lively, chattering, amusing, 
elegant conversationist, so full of scandal, politics, 
and cookery, did not so much appear to be Mr. Vivian 
Grey as the Marquess of Carabas himself. 

* Well, I must be gone,' said the fascinated noble ; 
' I really have not felt in such spirits for some time ; 
I almost fear I have been vulgar enough to be 
amusing, eh ! eh ! eh ! but you young men are sad 
fellows, eh ! eh ! eh ! Don't forget to call on me 
good evening! and Mr. Vivian Grey! Mr. Vivian 
Grey ! ' said his Lordship returning, ' you'll not 
forget the receipt you promised me for making 
tomahawk punch.' 

' Certainly not, my Lord,' said the young man ; 
' only it must be invented first,' thought Vivian, as 
he took up his light to retire. ' But never mind, 
never mind ; 

Chapeau bas ! chapeau has ! 
Gloire au Marquis de Carabas ! ' 



A FEW days after the dinner at Mr. Grey's, as the 
Marquess of Carabas was sitting in his library, and 
sighing, in the fulness of his ennui, as he looked on 
his large library-table, once triply covered with 
official communications, now thinly besprinkled with 
a stray parliamentary paper or two, his steward's 
accounts, and a few letters from some grumbling 
tenants ; Mr. Vivian Grey was announced. 



' I fear I am intruding on your Lordship, but I 
really could not refrain from bringing you the receipt 
I promised.' 

' Most happy to see ye, most happy to see ye.' 
( This is exactly the correct receipt, my Lord. To 


OF CURA9OA.' The Peer's eyes glistened, and his 
companion proceeded ; * ONE PINT OF cuRAgoA ; CATCH 


' Splendid ! ' ejaculated the Marquess. 

* The nice point, however, which it is impossible 
to define in a receipt, is catching the Aroma. What 
sort of a genius is your Lordship's gastrical chef? ' 

' Splendid ! ' re -ejaculated the Marquis ; ' Laporte 
is a genius.' 

' Well, my Lord ! I shall be most happy to 
superintend the first concoction for you ; and re- 
member particularly,' said Vivian, rising, ' remember, 
it must be iced.'' 

' Certainly, my dear fellow : but pray don't think 
of going yet.' 

* I am very sorry, my Lord ; but such a pressure 
of engagements your Lordship's kindness is so 
great, and, really, I fear, that at this moment especially, 
your Lordship can scarcely be in a humour for my 

' W T hy this moment especially, Mr. Vivian Grey ? ' 
' Oh, my Lord ! I am perfectly aware of your 
Lordship's talents for business ; but still I had con- 
ceived, that the delicate situation in which your 
Lordship is now placed, requiring such anxious atten- 
tion, such ' 

' Delicate situation ! anxious attention ! why man ! 
you speak riddles. I certainly have a great deal of 



business to transact : people are so obstinate, or so 
foolish, they will consult me, certainly, and cer- 
tainly I feel it my duty, Mr. Vivian Grey, I feel it 
the duty, Sir, of every Peer in this happy country 
(here his Lordship got parliamentary) ; yes, Sir, I 
feel it due to my character, to my family, to to to 
assist with my advice, all those who think fit to con- 
sult me.' Splendid peroration ! 

* Oh, my Lord ! ' carelessly remarked Vivian, ' I 
thought it was a mere on dit* 

' Thought what, my dear Sir, you really quite 
perplex me.' 

' I mean to say, my Lord I, I thought it was im- 
possible the overtures had been made.' 

' Overtures, Mr. Vivian Grey ? ' 

* Yes, my Lord ! Overtures hasn't your Lord- 
ship seen the Post ? but I knew it was impossible, 
I said so, I ' 

'Said what, Mr. Vivian Grey ?' 

' Said that the whole paragraph was unfounded.' 

* Paragraph I what paragraph ? ' and his Lordship 
rose, and rang the library bell, with a vehemence 
worthy of a Marquess ' Sadler, bring me the 
Morning Post.' 

The servant entered with the paper: Mr. Vivian 
Grey seized it from his hands before it reached the 
Marquess, and glancing his eye over it, with the 
rapidity of lightning, doubled up the sheet in a con- 
venient readable form, and pushing it into his Lord- 
ship's hands, exclaimed, ' There, my Lord ! there, 
that will explain all* 

His Lordship read : 

' We are informed that some alteration in the 
composition of the present administration is in con- 
templation ; Lord Past Century, it is said, will retire ; 



Mr. Liberal Principles will have the ; 

and Mr. Charlatan Gas the . A noble 

peer, whose practised talents have already benefited 
the nation, and who, on vacating his seat in the 
Cabinet, was elevated in the peerage, is reported as 
having had certain overtures made him, the nature 
of which may be conceived; but which, under the 
present circumstances, it would be indelicate in us to 
hint at.' 

It would have been impossible for a hawk to have 
watched its quarry with eyes of more fixed and 
anxious earnestness, than did Vivian Grey the Mar- 
quess of Carabas, as his Lordship's eyes wandered 
over the paragraph. Vivian drew his chair close to 
the table opposite to the Marquess, and when the 
paragraph was read, their eyes met. 

' Utterly untrue,' whispered the peer with an agi- 
tated voice, and with a countenance which, for a 
moment, seemed intellectual. ' But why, Mr. 
Vivian Grey should deem the fact of such over- 
tures having been made, " impossible" I confess, 
astonishes me.' 

' Impossible, my Lord ! ' 

* Ay, Mr. Grey, impossible, that was your word.' 

* Oh, my Lord ! what should I know about these 
matters ? ' 

' Nay, nay, Mr. Grey, something must have been 
floating in your mind why impossible, why impossible ? 
Did your father think so ? ' 

' My father ! Oh ! no, he never thinks about 
these matters ; our's is not a political family ; I'm not 
sure that he ever looks at a newspaper.' 

' But, my dear Mr. Grey, you would not have 
used the word without having some meaning. Why 
did you think it impossible ? impossible is such a 



peculiar word.' And here the Marquess looked up 
with great earnestness to a portrait of himself, which 
hung over the fire-place. It was one of Sir Thomas's 
happiest efforts ; but it was not the happiness of the 
likeness, nor the beauty of the painting, which now 
attracted his Lordship's attention : he thought only 
of the costume in which he appeared in that portrait 
the court dress of a Cabinet Minister: 'Impossible, 
Mr. Grey, you must confess is a very peculiar word,' 
reiterated his Lordship. 

' I said impossible, my Lord, because I did conceive, 
that had your Lordship been of a disposition, to 
which such overtures might have been made with 
any probability of success, the Marquess of Carabas 
would have been in a situation which would have 
precluded the possibility of those overtures being 
made at all.' 

' Hah ! ' and the Marquess nearly started from 
his seat. 

' Yes, my Lord, I am a young, an inexperienced 
young man, ignorant of the world's ways ; doubtless 
I was wrong, but I have much to learn,' and his voice 
faltered : ' but I did conceive, that having power at 
his command, the Marquess of Carabas did not ex- 
ercise it, merely because he despised it : but what 
should / know of such matters, my Lord ? ' 

' Is power a thing so easily to be despised, young 
man ? ' asked the Marquess. His eye rested on a 
vote of thanks from the ' Merchants and Bankers of 
London to the Right Honourable Sidney Lorraine, 
President, &c. &c. &c.' which, splendidly emblazoned, 
and gilt, and framed, and glazed, was suspended 
opposite the President's portrait. 

'Oh, no! my Lord, you do mistake -me,' eagerly 
burst forth Vivian, ' I am no cold-blooded philoso- 



pher, that would despise that, for which, in my 
opinion, men, real men, should alone exist. Power! 
Oh ! what sleepless nights, what days of hot anxiety ! 
what exertions of mind and body! what travel! what 
hatred ! what fierce encounters ! what dangers of all 
possible kinds, would I not endure with a joyous 
spirit to gain it ! But such, my Lord, I thought 
were feelings peculiar to inexperienced young men ; 
and seeing you, my Lord, so situated, that you might 
command all and every thing, and yet living as you 
do, I was naturally led to believe that the object of 
my adoration was a vain glittering bauble, which 
those who could possess knew the utter worthless- 
ness of.' 

The peer sat in a musing mood, playing the Devil's 
tatoo on the library table ; at last, he raised his eyes 
from the French varnish, and said to Vivian, in a 
low whisper, ' Are you so certain that I can command 
all and every thing ? ' 

" A II and every thing\ did I say all and every 
thing? Really, my Lord, you scan my expressions 
so critically ; but I see your Lordship is smiling at 
my boyish nonsense ! and really I feel that I have 
already wasted too much of your Lordship's valu- 
able time, and displayed too much of my own 

' My dear Sir, I am not aware that I was smiling.' 
' Oh ! your Lordship is so very kind.' 
' But, my dear Sir ! you are really labouring under 
a very great mistake. I am desirous, I am particularly 
desirous, of having your opinion upon this subject.' 

' My opinion, my Lord ! what should my opinion 
be, but an echo of the circle in which I live, but a 
faithful representation of the feelings of general 



' And, Mr. Grey, I should be glad to know what 
can possibly be more interesting to me than a faithful 
representation of the feelings of general society on 
this subject.' 

* The many, my Lord, are not always right.' 

' Mr. Grey, the many are not often wrong. Come, 
my dear Sir, do me the favour of being frank, and 
let me know why the public is of opinion that all and 
every thing is in my power, for such, after all, were 
your words.' 

' If I did use them, my Lord, it was because I was 
thinking, as I often am, what after all in this country 
is public life ? Is it not a race in which the swiftest 
must surely win the prize and is not that prize 
power? Has not your Lordship treasure? There 
is your moral steam which can work the world, Has 
not your Lordship treasure's most splendid conse- 
quences, pure blood and aristocratic influence? The 
Millionaire has in his possession the seeds of every 
thing, but he must wait for half a century till his 
descendant finds himself in your Lordship's state 
till he is yclept noble, and then he starts fair in the 
grand course. All these advantages your Lordship 
has apparently at hand, with the additional advantage 
(and one oh ! how great !) of having already proved 
to your country, that you know how to rule.' 

There was a dead silence, which at length the 
Marquess broke. ' There is much in what you say ; 
but I cannot conceal it from myself, I have no wish 
to conceal it from you I am not what I was' Oh, 
ambition ! thou art the parent of truth. 

' Ah, my Lord ! ' eagerly rejoined Vivian, ' here is 
the terrible error into which you great statesmen 
have always fallen. Think you not, that intellect is 
as much a purchaseable article as fine parks and fair 



castles ? With your Lordship's tried and splendid 
talents, every thing might be done ; but, in my opinion, 
if, instead of a practised, an experienced, and wary 
Statesman, I was now addressing an idiot Earl, I 
should not see, that the great end might not equally 
be consummated.' 

'Say you so, my merry man, and how?' 

' Why, my Lord, but, but, I feel that I am 
trespassing on your Lordship's time, otherwise I 
think I could show why society is of opinion that 
your Lordship can do all and every thing how, in- 
deed, your Lordship might, in a very short time, be 
Prime Minister.' 

' No, Mr. Grey ; this conversation must be 
finished. I'll first give orders that we may not be 
disturbed, and then we'll proceed immediately. Come, 
now ! your manner takes me, and we will converse 
in the spirit of the most perfect confidence.' 

Here, as the Marquess settled at the same time his 
chair and his countenance, and looked as anxious as if 
Majesty itself was consulting him on the formation 
of a ministry, in burst the Marchioness, notwith- 
standing all the remonstrances, entreaties, threats, 
and supplications of Mr. Sadler. 

Her Ladyship had been what they style a splendid 
woman ; she was now passata, although with the aid of 
cachemeres, diamonds, and turbans, her tout ensemble 
was still very striking. Her Ladyship was not re- 
markable for any thing, save a correct taste for 
poodles, parrots, and bijouterie, and a proper admira- 
tion of Theodore Hook, and John Bull. 

' Oh ! Marquess,' exclaimed her Ladyship, and a 
favourite green parrot, which came flying in after its 
accustomed perch, her Ladyship's left shoulder, 
shrieked at the same time in concert ' Oh ! Mar- 



quess, my poor Julie! You know we've noticed 
how nervous she has been for some days past, and I 
had just given her a saucer of arrow-root and milk, 
and she seemed a little easier, and I said to Miss 
Graves, " I really do think she is a leetle better," and 
Miss Graves said, " Yes, my Lady, I hope she is ; " 
when just, as we flattered ourselves, that the dear 
little creature was enjoying a quiet sleep, Miss Graves 
called out, "Oh, my Lady! my Lady! Julie's in a 
fit ! " and when I turned round she was lying on her 
back, kicking, with her eyes shut." And <here the 
Marchioness detected Mr. Grey, and gave him as 
fashionable a stare as might be expected from a Lady 
Patroness of Almack's. 

' The Marchioness Mr. Vivian Grey My love, 
I assure you we're engaged in a most important, a 
most ' 

'Oh! my life, I wouldn't disturb you for the 
world, only if you will just tell me what you think 
ought to be done ; leeches, or a warm bath ; or shall 
I send for Doctor Blue Pill?' 

The Marquess looked a little annoyed, as if he 

wished her Ladyship in her own room again. 

He was almost meditating a gentle reprimand, vexed 
that his grave young friend should have witnessed 
this frivolous intrusion, when that accomplished strip- 
ling, to the astonishment of the future minister, 
immediately recommended ' the warm bath,' and a 
few grains of ' mustard seed,' and then lectured with 
equal rapidity and erudition, on dogs, and their 
diseases in general. 

The Marchioness retired, ' easier in her mind about 
Julie, than she had been for some days,' as Vivian 
assured her ' that it was not apoplexy, but only the 
first symptom of an epidemic.' And as she retired, 



she murmured her gratitude most gracefully to Julie's 
young physician, and her prime minister, the parrot, 
on her left shoulder, at the same time cackled a 

' Now, Mr. Grey,' said his Lordship, endeavouring 
to recover his dignity, ' we were discussing the public 
sentiments, you know, on a certain point, when this 
unfortunate interruption ' 

Vivian had not much difficulty in collecting his 
ideas, and he proceeded, not as displeased as his 
Lordship, with the domestic scena. 

' I need not remind your Lordship, that the two 
great parties into which this State is divided, are 
apparently very unequally proportioned. Your Lord- 
ship well knows how the party to which your 
Lordship is said to belong, your Lordship knows, 
I imagine, how that is constituted. We have nothing 
to do with the other. My Lord, I must speak out. 
No thinking man, and such, I trust, Vivian Grey 
is, no thinking man can for a moment suppose that 
your Lordship's heart is very warm in the cause of a 
party, which for I will not mince my words has 
betrayed you. How is it, it is asked by thinking men, 
how is it that the Marquess of Carabas is the tool of 
a faction ?' 

The Marquess breathed loud, ' they say so, do 

' Why, my Lord, listen even to your servants in 
your own hall need I say more ? How, then ! is 
this opinion true ? Let us look to your conduct to 
the party, to which you are said to belong. Your 
votes are theirs, your influence is theirs ; and for all 
this, what return, my Lord Marquess, what return ? 
My Lord, I am not rash enough to suppose, that your 
Lordship, alone and unsupported, can make yourself 
D 49 


the arbiter of this country's destinies. It would be 
ridiculous to entertain such an idea for a second. 
The existence of such a man would not be endured 
by the nation for a second. But, my Lord, union is 
strength. Nay, my Lord, start not I am not going 
to advise you to throw yourself into the arms of 
opposition ; leave such advice for greenhorns. I am 
not going to advise you to adopt a line of conduct, 
which would, for a moment, compromise the con- 
sistency of your high character ; leave such advice for 
fools. My Lord, it is to preserve your consistency, 
it is to vindicate your high character, it is to make the 
Marquess of Carabas perform the duties which society 
requires from him, that I, Vivian Grey, a member of 
that society, and an humble friend of your Lordship, 
speak so boldly.' 

' My friend,' said the agitated Peer, * you cannot 
speak too boldly. My mind opens to you. I have 
felt, I have long felt, that I was not what I ought to 
be, that I was not what society requires me to be : 
but where is your remedy, what is the line of conduct 
that I should pursue ? ' 

* The remedy, my Lord ! I never conceived, for a 
moment, that there was any doubt of the existence of 
means to attain all and every thing. I think that was 
your Lordship's phrase. I only hesitated as to the 
existence of the inclination^ on the part of your 

' You cannot doubt it now> said the Peer, in a low 
voice ; and then his Lordship looked anxiously round 
the room, as if he feared that there had been some 
mysterious witness to his whisper. 

' My Lord,' said Vivian, and he drew his chair close 
to the Marquess, ' the plan is shortly this. There 
are others in a similar situation with yourself. All 



thinking men know, your Lordship knows still better, 
that there are others equally influential equally 
ill-treated. How is it that I see no concert among 
these individuals ? How is it that, jealous of each 
other, or each trusting that he may ultimately prove 
an exception to the system of which he is a victim ; 
how is it, I say, that you look with cold hearts on 
each other's situations ? My Lord Marquess, it is at 
the head of these that I would place you ; it is these 
that I would have act with you and this is the union 
which is strength' 

' You are right, you are right ; there is Courtown, 
but we do not speak. There is Beaconsfield, but we 
are not intimate, but much might be done.' 

' My Lord, you must not be daunted at a few 
difficulties, or at a little exertion. But as for Cour-- 
town, or Beaconsfield, or fifty other offended men, 
if it can be shown to them that their interest is to be 
your Lordship's friend, trust me, that ere six months 
are over, they will have pledged their troth. Leave 
all this to me give me your Lordship's name,' said 
Vivian, whispering most earnestly in the Marquess's 
ear, and laying his hand upon his Lordship's arm 
' give me your Lordship's name, and your Lordship's 
influence, and I will take upon myself the whole 
organization of the CARABAS PARTY.' 

' The Carabas party ! Ah ! we must think more 
of this.' 

The Marquess's eyes smiled with triumph, as he 
shook Vivian cordially by the hand, and begged him 
to call upon him on the morrow. 

5 1 




THE intercourse between the Marquess and Vivian, 
after this interview, was constant. No dinner-party 
was thought perfect at Carabas House, without the 
presence of the young gentleman ; and as the 
Marchioness was delighted with the perpetual presence 
of an individual whom she could always consult about 
Julie, there was apparently no domestic obstacle to 
Vivian's remaining in high favour. 

The Earl of Eglamour, the only child, in whom 
were concentrated all the hopes of the illustrious 
House of Lorraine, was in Italy. The only remaining 
member of the domestic circle who was wanting, was 
the Honourable Mrs. Felix Lorraine, the wife of the 
Marquess's younger brother. This lady, exhausted 
by the gaiety of the season, had left town somewhat 
earlier than she usually did, and was inhaling fresh 
air, and of course studying botany, at the magnificent 
seat of the Carabas family, CHATEAU DESIR, at which 
splendid place Vivian was to pass the summer. 

Mr. Grey watched the movements of his son with 
an anxious, but apparently with no curious eye. ' If 
the Marquess will give my son a good place, why 
Master Vivian's new system works rather better than 
I conceived it would ; but how the young knave hath 
so managed, shall I say ? the old fool, does, I confess, 
puzzle my philosophy.' 

Alas ! when Mr. Grey jocosely used the phrase, 
' new system,' he was little aware of the workings of 
his son's mind. But so it is in life ; a father is, per- 
haps, the worst judge of his son's capacity. He knows 
too much and too little. 

5 2 


In the meantime, as we before stated, all was sun- 
shine with Vivian Grey. His noble friend and him- 
self were in perpetual converse, and constantly 
engaged in deep consultation. As yet, the world 
knew nothing, except that, according to the Marquess 
of Carabas, ' Vivian Grey was the most astonishingly 
clever and prodigiously accomplished fellow that ever 
breathed.' And as the Marquess always added, 
' resembled himself very much when he was young.' 

But it must not be supposed, that Vivian was to 
all the world the fascinating creature that he was 
to the Marquess of Carabas. Many complained that 
he was reserved, silent, satirical, and haughty. But 
the truth was, Vivian Grey often asked himself, ' who 
is to be my enemy to-morrow ? ' He was too 
cunning a master of the human mind, not to be 
aware of the quicksands upon which all greenhorns 
strike ; he knew too well the danger of unnecessary 
THE WORLD, is the way to govern mankind, and such 
was the motto of Vivian Grey. 



How shall I describe CHATEAU DESIR, that place fit 
for all princes ? In the midst of a park of great 
extent, and eminent for scenery, as varied as might 
please Nature's most capricious lover ; in the midst 
of green lawns, and deep winding glens, and cooling 
streams, and wild forest, and soft woodland, there 
was gradually formed an elevation, on which was 
situate a mansion of great size, and of that bastard, 
but picturesque, style of architecture, called the 
Italian Gothic. The date of its erection was about 



the middle of the sixteenth century. You entered 
by a noble gateway, in which the pointed style still 
predominated ; but in various parts of which, the 
Ionic column, and the prominent keystone, and other 
creations of Roman architecture, intermingled with 
the expiring Gothic, into a large quadrangle, to which 
the square casement windows, and the trianglar pedi- 
ments or gable ends, supplying the place of battle- 
ments, gave a .varied and Italian feature. In the 
centre of the court, from an immense marble basin, 
the rim of which was enriched by a splendidly 
sculptured lotus border, rose a marble group, re- 
presenting Amphitrite with her marine attendants, 
whose sounding shells and coral sceptres sent forth 
their subject element in sparkling showers. This 
work, the chef d^ceuvre of a celebrated artist of 
Vicenza, had been purchased by Valerian, first Lord 
Carabas, who having spent the greater part of his life 
as the representative of his monarch at the Ducal 
Court of Venice, at length returned to his native 
country ; and in the creation of Chateau Desir, en- 
deavoured to find some consolation for the loss of his 
gay palazzo on the banks of the Adige. 

Over the gateway there rose a turreted tower, the 
small square window of which, notwithstanding its 
stout stanchions, illumined the muniment room of 
the House of Carabas. In the spandrils of the gate- 
way, and in many other parts of the building, might 
be seen the arms of the family ; while the innumer- 
able stacks of chimneys, which appeared to spring 
from all parts of the roof, were carved and built in 
such curious and quaint devices, that they were rather 
an ornament than an excrescence. When you entered 
the quadrangle, you found one side solely occupied 
by the old hall, the immense carved rafters of whose 



oaken roof rested on corbels of the family supporters, 
against the walls. 

The walls of the hall were of stone, but these were 
covered half way from the ground with a pannelling 
of curiously carved oak ; whence were suspended the 
family portraits in massy frames, painted partly by 
Dutch, and partly by Italian artists. Near the Dais, 
or upper part of the Hall, there projected an oriel 
window, which, as you beheld, you scarcely knew 
what most to admire, the radiancy of its painted 
panes, or the fantastic richness of Gothic ornament, 
which was profusely lavished in every part of its 
masonry. Here too the Gothic pendent, and the 
Gothic fan-work, were intermingled with the Italian 
arabesques, which, at the time of the building of the 
Chateau, had been recently introduced into England 
by Hans Holbein and John of Padua. 

How wild and fanciful are those ancient ara- 
besques ! Here at Chateau Desir, in the pannelling 
of the old hall, might you see fantastic scrolls, 
separated by bodies ending in termini, and whose 
heads supported the Ionic volute, while the arch, 
which appeared to spring from these capitals, had, 
for a keystone, heads more monstrous than those of 
the fabled animals of Ctesias ; or so ludicrous, that 
you forgot the classic Griffin in the grotesque con- 
ception of the Italian artist. Here was a gibbering 
monkey, there a grinning Pulcinello ; now you 
viewed a chattering devil, which- might have figured 
in the Temptation of St. Anthony ; and now a 
mournful, mystic, bearded countenance, which might 
have flitted in the back scene of a Witches' Sabbath. 

A long Gallery wound through the upper story 
of two other sides of the quadrangle, and beneath 
were the show suite of apartments, with a sight of 



which the admiring eyes of curious tourists were 
occasionally delighted. 

The grey stone walls of this antique edifice were, 
in many places, thickly covered with ivy, and other 
parasitical plants, the deep green of whose verdure 
beautifully constrasted with the scarlet glories of the 
papyrus japonica, which gracefully clustered round 
the windows of the lower chambers. The mansion 
itself was immediately surrounded by numerous 
ancient forest trees. There was the elm, with its 
rich branches, bending down like clustering grapes ; 
there was the wide-spreading oak, with its roots 
fantastically gnarled ; there was the ash, with its 
smooth bark and elegant leaf; and the silver beech, 
and the gracile birch ; and the dark fir, affording 
with its rough foliage, a contrast to the trunks of its 
more beautiful companions, or, shooting far above 
their branches, with the spirit of freedom worthy of 
a rough child of the mountains. 

Around the Castle were extensive pleasure- 
grounds, which realized the romance of the 
Gardens of Verulam. And truly, as you wandered 
through their enchanting paths, there seemed no end 
to their various beauties, and no exhaustion of their 
perpetual novelty. Green retreats succeeded to 
winding walks ; from the shady berceau, you vaulted 
on the noble terrace ; and if, for an instant, you 
felt wearied by treading the velvet lawn, you might 
rest in a mossy cell, while your mind was soothed 
by the soft music of falling waters. Now, your 
curious eyes were greeted by oriental animals, bask- 
ing in a sunny paddock ; and when you turned from 
the white-footed antelope, and the dark-eyed gazelle, 
you viewed an aviary of such extent, that within 
its trelliced walls the imprisoned songsters could 



build, in the free branches of a tree, their natural 

* Oh, fair scene ! ' thought Vivian Grey, as he 
approached, on a fine summer's afternoon, the 
splendid Chateau. ' Oh, fair scene ! doubly fair to 
those who quit for you the thronged and agitated city. 
And can it be, that those who exist within this 
enchanted domain, can think of anything but sweet 
air, and do aught but revel in the breath of per- 
fumed flowers ? ' And here he gained the garden 
gate : so he stopped his soliloquy, and gave his 
horse to his groom. 



THE Marquess had preceded Vivian in his arrival 
about three or four days, and of course, to use the 
common phrase, the establishment ' was quite settled.' 
It was was, indeed, to avoid the possibility of witness- 
ing the domestic arrangements of a nobleman in any 
other point of view, save that of perfection, that 
Vivian had declined accompanying his noble friend 
to the Chateau. Mr. Grey, junior, was an epicurean, 
and all epicureans will quite agree with me, that his 
conduct on this head was extremely wise. I am 
not very nice myself about these matters ; but there 

are, we all know, a thousand little things that go 

wrong on the arrivals of even the best regulated 
families, and to mention no others, for any rational 
being voluntarily to encounter the awful gaping of 
an English family, who have travelled one hundred 
miles in ten successive hours, appears to me to be 
little short of madness. 

' Grey, my boy, quite happy to see ye ! later 



than I expected ; first bell rings in five minutes 
Sadler will show you your room Father, I hope 
quite well ? ' 

Such was the salutation of the Marquess ; and 
Vivian accordingly retired to arrange his toilet. 

The first bell rang, and the second bell rang, and 
Vivian was seated at the dinner-table. He bowed 
to the Marchioness, and asked after her poodle, 
and gazed with some little curiosity at the vacant 
chair opposite him. 

' Mrs. Felix Lorraine Mr. Vivian Grey,' said the 
Marquess, as a Lady entered the room. 

Now, although I am one of those historians, who 
are of opinion that the nature of the personages they 
celebrate, should be developed rather by a recital of 
their conduct, than by a set character au commence- 
ment ; I feel it, nevertheless, incumbent upon me to 
devote a few lines to the Lady that has just entered, 
which the reader will be so good as to get through, 
while she is accepting an offer of some white soup ; 
by this means he will lose none of the conversation. 

The Honourable Felix Lorraine, we have before 
laconically described as a Roue. To the initiated, I 
need say no more ; they will all know what sort of a 
person a roue must be, who has the honour of being the 
son of an English Earl. To the uninitiated, I shall 
only observe, that after having passed through a career 
with tolerable credit, which would have blasted the 
character of any common personage, Felix Lorraine 
ended by pigeoning a young nobleman, whom, for 
that purpose, he had made his intimate friend. The 
affair got wind. After due examination, was pro- 
claimed ' too bad,' and the guilty personage was 
visited with the heaviest vengeance of modern society 
he was expelled his club. By this unfortunate 



exposure, Mr. Felix Lorraine was obliged to give in 
a match, which was on the tapis, with the celebrated 
Miss Mexico, on whose million he had determined 
to set up a character and a chariot, and at the same 
time pension his mistress, and subscribe to the 
Society for the Suppression of Vice. Felix left for 
the Continent, and in due time was made drum- 
major at Barbadoes, or fiscal at Ceylon, or something 
of that kind ; I forget which. While he loitered in 
Europe, he made a conquest of the heart of the 
daughter of some German baron, who was ambas- 
sador extraordinary from his Serene Highness the 
Palsgrave of * * * * to his most upreme Excel- 
lency the Landgrave of * * * and after six 
weeks passed in the most affectionate manner, each 
of the happy couple performing their respective 
duties with perfect propriety, Felix left for his 
colonial appointment, and also left his lady be- 
hind him. 

Mr. Lorraine had duly and dutifully informed his 
family of his marriage, and they, as amiably and 
affectionately, had never answered his letters, which 
he never expected they would. Profiting by their 
example, he never answered his wife's, who, in due 
time, to the horror of the Marquess, landed in 
England, and claimed the protection of her ' beloved 
husband's family.' The Marquess vowed he would 
never see her ; the lady, however, one morning 
gained admittance, and from that moment she had 
never quitted her brother-in-law's roof, and not only 
had never quitted it, but now made the greatest 
favour of her staying. 

The extraordinary influence which Mrs. Felix 
Lorraine possessed, was certainly not owing to her 
beauty, for the lady opposite Vivian Grey had 



apparently no claims to admiration, on the score of 
her personal qualifications. Her complexion was 
bad, and her features were indifferent, and these 
characteristics were not rendered less uninterestingly 
conspicuous, by what makes an otherwise ugly woman 
toute au contraire, namely, a pair of expressive eyes ; 
for certainly this epithet could not be applied to 
those of Mrs. Felix Lorraine, which gazed in all the 
vacancy of German listlessness. 

The lady did bow to Mr. Grey, and that was all ; 
and then she negligently spooned her soup, and then, 
after much parade, sent it away untouched. As 
Vivian wined with the Marchioness, he was not 
under the necessity of paying any courtesy to his 
opposite neighbour, whose silence, he plainly per- 
ceived, was for the nonce, and consequently for him. 
But the day was hot, and Vivian had been fatigued 
by his ride, and the Marquess's champagne was 
excellent ; and so, at last, the floodgates of his speech 
burst, and talk he did. He complimented her Lady- 
ship's poodle, quoted German to Mrs. Felix Lorraine, 
and taught the Marquess to eat cabinet pudding with 
cura^oa sauce (a custom which, by the bye, I recom- 
mend to all) ; and then his stories, and his scandal, 
and his sentiment ; stories for the Marquess, scandal 
for the Marchioness, and sentiment for the Marquess's 
sister ! That lady, who began to find out her man, 
had no mind to be longer silent, and although a 
perfect mistress of the English language, began to 
articulate a horrible patois, that she might not be 
mistaken for an Englishwoman, a thing which she 
particularly dreaded. But now came her punish- 
ment, for Vivian saw the effect which he had pro- 
duced on Mrs. Felix Lorraine, and that Mrs. Felix 
Lorraine now wished to produce a corresponding 



effect upon him, and this he was determined she 
should not do ; so new stories followed, and new 
compliments ensued, and finally he anticipated her 
sentences, and sometimes her thoughts. The lady 
sat silent and admiring ! At last the important meal 
was finished, and the time came when good dull 
English dames retire ; but of this habit Mrs. Felix 
Lorraine did not approve ; and, although she had 
not yet prevailed upon Lady Carabas to adopt her 
ideas on field days, still en domestique, the good- 
natured Marchioness had given in, and to save her- 
self from hearing the din of male voices at a time, at 
which during her whole life she had been unaccustomed 
to them, the Marchioness of Carabas dozed. Her 
worthy spouse, who was prevented by the presence 
of Mrs. Felix Lorraine, from talking politics with 
Vivian, passed the bottle pretty briskly, and then 
conjecturing that ' from the sunset we should have a 
fine day to-morrow,' fell back in his easy chair, and 

Mrs. Felix Lorraine looked at her noble relatives, 
and shrugged up her shoulders with an air which 
baffleth all description. ' Mr. Grey, I congratulate 
you on this hospitable reception ; you see we treat 
you quite en famille. Come! 'tis a fine evening, you 
have seen, as yet, but little of Chateau Desir : we 
may as*well enjoy the fine air on the Terrace.' 



' You must know, Mr. Grey, that this is my favourite 
walk, and I therefore expect that it will be yours.' 

' It cannot indeed fail to be such, the favourite as 
it alike is, of nature, and Mrs. Felix Lorraine.' 



* On my word, a very pretty sentence ! and who 
taught you, young gentleman, to bandy words so 
fairly ?' 

' I never can open my mouth, except in the presence 
of a woman,' bolted out Vivian, with the most im- 
pudent mendacity, and he looked interesting and 

' Indeed ! and what do you know about such 
wicked work, as talking to women?" and here Mrs. 
Felix Lorraine imitated Vivian's sentimental voice. 
'Do you know,' she continued, 'I feel quite happy 
that you have come down here ; I begin to think 
that we shall be very great friends.' 

' Nothing appears to me more evident,' said Vivian. 

' How delicious is friendship,' exclaimed Mrs. Felix 
Lorraine: 'delightful sentiment, that prevents life 
from being a curse ! Have you a friend, Mr. Vivian 
Grey ?' 

'Before I answer that question, I should like to 
know what meaning Mrs. Felix Lorraine attaches to 
that important monosyllable, friend? 

'Oh, you want a definition! I hate definitions; 
and of all the definitions in the world, the one I've 
been most unfortunate in has been a definition of 
friendship, I might say' and here her voice sunk, 
'I might say, of all the sentiments in the world, 
friendship is the one which has been most Tatal to 
me ; but I must not inoculate you with my bad 
spirits, bad spirits are not for young blood like yours, 
leave them to old persons like myself.' 

'Old!' said Vivian, in a proper tone of surprise. 

'Old ! ay old, how old do you think I am ?' 

'You may have seen twenty summers,' gallantly 
conjectured Vivian. 

The lady looked pleased, and almost insinuated 



that she had seen one or two more. Mrs. Felix 
Lorraine was about thirty. 

'A clever woman,' thought Vivian, 'but vain; I 
hardly know what to think of her.' 

* Mr. Grey, I fear you find me in bad spirits to-day ; 
but, alas! I I have cause. Although we see each 
other to-day for the first time, yet there is something 
in your manner, something in the expression of your 
eyes, that make me believe my happiness is not alto- 
gether a matter of indifference to you.' These words, 
uttered in one of the sweetest voices by which ever 
human being was fascinated, were slowly and de- 
liberately spoken, as if it was intended that they 
should rest on the ear of the object to whom they 
were addressed. 

'My dear Mrs. Lorraine! it is impossible that / 
can have but one sentiment with regard to you, that 
of ' 

' Of what, Mr Grey ? 

4 Of solicitude for your welfare.' 

The lady gently took the arm of the young man, 
and then with an agitated voice, and a troubled spirit, 
dwelt upon the unhappiness of her lot, and the 
cruelty of her fortunes. Her husband's indifference 
was the sorrowful theme of her lamentations ; and 
she ended by asking Mr. Vivian Grey's advice, as to 
the line of conduct which she should pursue with 
regard to him ; first duly informing Vivian that this 
was the only time, and he the only person, to whom 
this subject had been ever mentioned. 

'And why should I mention it here and to whom ? 
The Marquess is the best of men, but ' and here 
she looked up in Vivian's face, and spoke volumes; 
'and the Marchioness is the most amiable of women, 
at least, I suppose her lap-dog thinks so.' 



The advice of Vivian was very concise. He sent 
the husband to the devil in two seconds, and insisted 
upon the wife's not thinking of him for another 
moment ; and then the lady dried her eyes, and 
promised to do her best. 

'And now,' said Mrs Felix Lorraine, 'I must talk 
about your own affairs I think your plan excellent.' 

'Plan! Madam.' 

' Yes, plan. Sir ! the Marquess has told me all. I 
have no head for politics, Mr Grey; but if I cannot 
assist you in managing the nation, I perhaps may in 
managing the family, and my services are at your 
command. Believe me, you'll have enough to do : 
there, I pledge you my troth. Do you think it a 
pretty hand ?' 

Vivian did think it a very pretty hand, and he 
performed due courtesies in a very gallant style. 

' And now, good even to you,' said the lady ; ' this 
little gate leads to my apartments. You'll have no 
difficulty in finding your way back : ' so saying she 



WHEN Vivian retired to his room, he found a 
notellette on his dressing-case, which contained two 
lines. They were as follows : ' A walk on the Ter- 
race before breakfast is the fashion at Chdteau Desir.' 
The espirit of the note sufficiently indicated the 
authoress, even if the perfumed paper, and the dimi- 
nutive French gem, with its piquant and peculiar 
motto, had allowed him, for an instant, to hesitate. 

In spite of his travelling, and his champagne, and 
his sound sleep, Vivian rose early, and was on the 



Terrace at a most reasonable hour, at least for him. ; 
Mrs. Felix Lorraine was already there. 

' I congratulate Mr. Grey,' said the lady, as she 
extended him a ringer, ' on being an early riser. 
Nothing is so vulgar as getting up late. Oh ! what 
a pretty morning gown that is ! and how nice your 
hair curls ! and that velvet stock ! why I declare 
you've quite a taste in costume ? but it does not set 
quite right. There, that's better,' said Mrs. Lorraine, 
adjusting the stock for him, ' not much beard yet, I 
see ; you must take care to have one before you're a 
privy counsellor? 

' I rejoice,' said Vivian, ' that I can in return sin- 
cerely compliment you on your own good taste in 
costume. That buckle is, of course, fresh from 
Berlin, or Birmingham it's all the same, you know, 
at least at Howell and James's ; and of all things in 
the world, what I most admire, are your black velvet 
slippers ! But, where's the Marquess ?' 

' Oh ! we're not very early honoured with the 
presence of the Marquess of Carabas in his own 

' Why, what do you mean ?' 

' Oh ! I mean nothing, except that the future 
minister never rises till noon bad habits, Mr. Grey, 
for a man of business ! ' 

' Bad habits, indeed ! we must endeavour to cure 
him, now that he's going, as you say, to be a man of 

' Oh, certainly ! cure him by all means. He'll 
give you, I don't doubt, plenty of occupation. I 
advise you regularly to reform the whole house. 
Your influence is so great, that you can do anything 
with the Marquess. Well, I hope he'll behave better 
in future, for the Castle will be full in a few days. 
E 65 


There are the Courtowns coming, and Sir Berdmore 
and Lady Scrope, and the Beaconsfields all next 
week ; and crowds of all sorts of people, whose 
names I forget, pawns in the great game of chess, 
which is to be played by Vivian Grey, Esq., and the 
most noble the Marquess of Carabas against all 
England. There, there's the breakfast bell ; I hope 
your appetite's good.' 



THE first week at Chateau Desir passed pleasantly 
enough. Vivian's morning was amply occupied in 
maturing with the Marquess the grand principles ot 
the new political system : in weighing interests, in 
balancing connections, and settling ' what side was to 
be taken on the great questions \ ' Oh ! politics, thou 
splendid juggle ! The whole business, although so 
magnificent in its result, appeared very easy to the 
two counsellors, for it was one of the first principles 
of Mr. Vivian Grey, ' that every thing was possible.' 
Men did fail in life to be sure, and after all, very 
little was done by the generality ; but still all these 
failures, and all this inefficiency might be traced to a 
want of physical and mental courage. Some men 
were bold in their conceptions, and splendid heads at 
a grand system, but then when the day of battle 
came, they turned out very cowards ; while others, 
who had nerve enough to stand the brunt of the 
hottest fire, were utterly ignorant of military tactics, 
and fell before the destroyer, like the brave un- 
tutored Indians, before the civilized European. Now 
Vivian Grey was conscious, that there was at least 
one person in the world, who was no craven either in 



body or in mind, and so he had long come to the 
comfortable conclusion, that it was impossible that 
his career could be anything, but the most brilliant. 
And truly, employed as he now was, with a peer of 
the realm, in a solemn consultation on that realm's 
most important interests, at a time when creatures 
of his age were moping in Halls and Colleges, is it 
to be wondered at, that he began to imagine that his 
theory was borne out by experience, and by fact ? 
Not that it must be supposed, even for a moment, 
that Vivian Grey was, what that the world calls 
conceited. Oh, no ! he knew the measure of his own 
mind, and had fathomed the depth of his powers 
with equal skill and impartiality ; but in the process 
he could not but feel, that he could conceive much> 
and dare do more. 

I said the first week at Chateau Desir passed 
pleasantly enough ; and so it did, for Vivian's soul 
revelled in the morning councils on his future 
fortunes, with as much eager joy, as a young 
courser trying the turf, preliminary to running for 
the plate. And then, in the evening, were moon- 
lit walks with Mrs. Felix Lorraine ! and then the 
lady abused England so prettily, and initiated her 
companion in all the secrets of German Courts, and 
sang beautiful French songs, and then she would 
take him beside the luminous lake in the park, and 
vow it looked just like the dark blue Rhine ! and 
then she remembered Germany, and grew sad, and 
abused her husband ; and then she taught Vivian 
the guitar, and some other fooleries besides. 





THE second week of Vivian's visit had come round, 
and the flag waved proudly on the proud tower of 
Chateau Desir, indicating to the admiring county, 
that the most noble Sydney, Marquess of Carabas, 
held public days twice a week at his grand Castle. 
And now came the neighbouring peer, full of grace 
and gravity, and the mellow baronet, with his hearty 
laugh, and the jolly country squire, and the middling 
gentry, and the jobbing country attorney, and the 
flourishing country surveyor. Some honouring by 
their presence, some who felt the obligation equal, 
and others bending before the noble host, as if 
paying him adoration was almost an equal pleasure 
with that of guzzling his venison pasties, and quaff- 
ing his bright wines. 

Independent of all these periodical visitors, the 
house was full of permanent ones. There was the 
Viscount and Viscountess Courtown, and their three 
daughters, and Lord and Lady Beaconsfield, and 
their three sons, and Sir Berdmore and Lady Scrope, 
and Colonel Delmington of the Guards, and Lady 
Louisa Manvers, and her daughter Julia. Lady 
Louisa was the only sister of the Marquess a 
widow, proud and pennyless. 

To all these distinguished personages, Vivian was 
introduced by the Marquess as * a monstrous clever 
young man, and his Lordship's most particular friend' 
and then the noble Carabas left the game in his 
young friend's hands. 

And right well Vivian did his duty. In a week's 
time it would have been hard to decide with whom 



of the family of the Courtowns Vivian was the 
greatest favourite. He rode with the Viscount, 
who was a good horseman, and was driven by his 
Lady, who was a good whip ; and when he had 
sufficiently admired the tout ensemble of her Lady- 
ship's pony phaeton, he entrusted her, 'in confidence, 1 
with some ideas of his own about Martingales, a 
subject which he assured her Ladyship ' had been 
the object of his mature consideration.' The three 
honourable Misses were the most difficult part of 
the business ; but he talked sentiment with the first, 
sketched with the second, and romped with the 

Ere the Beaconsfields could be jealous of the 
influence of the Courtowns, Mr. Vivian Grey had 
promised his Lordship, who was a collector of 
medals, an unique, which had never yet been heard 
of ; and her Ladyship, who was a collector of auto- 
graphs, the private letters of every man of genius 
who ever had been heard of. In this division of 
the Carabas guests, he was not bored with a family ; 
for sons, he always made it a rule to cut dead ; they 
are the members of a family who, on an average, 
are generally very uninfluential, for, on an average, 
they are fools enough to think it very knowing, to 
be very disagreeable. So the wise man but little 
loves them, but woe to the fool who neglects the 
daughters ! 

Sir Berdmore Scrope, Vivian found a more un- 
manageable personage ; for the baronet was con- 
foundedly shrewd, and without a particle of sentiment 
in his composition. It was a great thing, however, 
to gain him ; for Sir Berdmore was a leading 
country gentleman, and having quarrelled with 
Ministers about the corn laws, had been accounted 



disaffected ever since. The baronet, however, al- 
though a bold man to the world, was luckily hen- 
pecked ; so Vivian made love to the wife, and 
secured the husband. 



I THINK that Julia Manvers was really the most 
beautiful creature that ever smiled in this fair world. 
Such a symmetrically formed shape, such perfect 
features, such a radiant complexion, such luxuriant 
auburn hair, and such blue eyes, lit up by a smile 
of such mind and meaning, have seldom blessed the 
gaze of admiring man ! Vivian Grey, fresh as he 
was, was not exactly the creature to lose his heart 
very speedily. He looked upon marriage as a 
certain farce in which, sooner or later, he was, as 
a well-paid actor, to play his part ; and could it 
have advanced his views one jot, he would have 
married the Princess Caraboo to-morrow. But of 
all wives in the world, a young and handsome one 
was that which he most dreaded ; and how a states- 
man, who was wedded to a beautiful woman, could 
possibly perform his duties to the public, did most 
exceedingly puzzle him. Notwithstanding, however, 
these sentiments, Vivian began to think that there 
really could be no harm in talking to so beautiful 
a creature as Julia, and a little conversation with her 
would, he felt, be no unpleasing relief to the difficult 
duties in which he was involved. 

To the astonishment of the Honourable Buckhurst 
Stanhope, eldest son of Lord Beaconsh'eld, Mr. Vivian 
Grey, who had never yet condescended to acknow- 
ledge his existence, asked him one morning, with the 



most fascinating of smiles, and with the most con- 
ciliating voice, ' whether they should ride together ? ' 
The young heir apparent looked stiff, and assented. 
He arrived again at Chateau Desir in a couple of 
hours, desperately enamoured of the eldest Miss 
Courtown. The sacrifice of two mornings to the 
Honourable Dormer Stanhope, and the Honourable 
Gregory Stanhope, sent them home equally au desespoir 
as to the remaining sisters. Having thus, like a man 
of honour, provided for the amusement of his former 
friends, the three Miss Courtowns, Vivian left Mrs. 
Felix Lorraine to the Colonel, whose mustache, by 
the bye, that lady considerably patronized, and then, 
having excited an universal feeling of gallantry among 
the elders, Vivian found his whole day at the service 
of Julia Manvers. 

' Miss Manvers, I think that you and I are the 
only faithful subjects in this Castle of Indolence. 
Here am I lounging on an Ottoman, my ambition 
reaching only so far as the possession of a cigar, 
whose aromatic and circling wreathes, I candidly con- 
fess, I dare not here excite; and you, of course, 
much too knowing to be doing any thing on the 
first of August, save dreaming of races, archery feats, 
and county balls the three most delightful things 
which the country can boast, either for man, woman, 
or child.' 

4 Of course, you except sporting for yourself 
shooting especially, I suppose.' 

' Shooting ! oh ! ah ! there is such a thing. No, 
I'm no shot ; not that I have not in my time culti- 
vated a Manton ; but the truth is, having, at an early 
age, mistaken my most intimate friend for a cock 
pheasant, I sent a whole crowd of "fours " into his 
face, and thereby spoilt one of the prettiest counten- 


ances in Christendom ; so I gave up the field. 
Besides, as Tom Moore says, I have so much to do 
in the country, that, for my part, I really have no 
time for killing birds and jumping over ditches : 
good work enough for country squires, who must, 
like all others, have their hours of excitement. Mine 
are of a different nature, and boast a different 
locality ; and so when I come into the country, 'tis 
for pleasant air, and beautiful trees, and winding 
streams, things, which, of course, those who live all 
the year round among, do not suspect to be lovely 
and adorable creations. Don't you agree with Tom 
Moore, Miss Manvers ? ' 

' Oh, of course ! but I think it's very improper, 
that habit, that every one has, of calling a man of 
such eminence as the author of Lalla Rookh, 'Tom 

' I wish he could but hear you ! But suppose I 
were to quote Mr. Moore, or Mr. Thomas Moore, 
would you have the most distant conception whom I 
meant ? No, no, certainly not. By the bye, did 
you ever hear the pretty name they gave him at 
Paris ? ' 

' No ! what was it ? ' 

* One day, Moore and Rogers went to call on 
Denon. Rogers gave their names to the Swiss, 
Monsieur Rogers et Monsieur Moore. The Swiss 
dashed open the library door, and, to the great sur- 
prise of the illustrious antiquary, announced, Monsieur 
1'Amour ! While Denon was doubting whether the 
God of Love was really paying him a visit or not, 
Rogers entered. I should like to have seen Denon's 

' And Monsieur Denon did take a portrait of Mr. 
Rogers as Cupid, I believe, Mr. Grey ?' 



' Come, Madam, " no scandal about Queen Eliza- 
beth, I hope." Mr. Rogers is one of the most 
elegant-minded men in the country.' 

* Nay ! don't lecture me with such a riant face, or 
else all your morale will be utterly thrown away.' 

' Ah ! you have Retsch's Faust there. I did not 
expect on a drawing-room table at Chateau Desir, to 
see anything so old, and so excellent. I thought the 
third edition of Tremaine would be a very fair speci- 
men of your ancient literature, and Major Denham's 
hair-breadth escapes of your modern. There was an 
excellent story about town, on the return of Denham 
and Clapperton. The travellers took different routes, 
in order to arrive at the same point of destination. 
In his wanderings, the Major came unto an unheard- 
of Lake, which, with a spirit, which they of the 
Guards surely approved, he christened " Lake Water- 
loo" Clapperton arrived a few days after him ; and 
the pool was immediately re-baptised " Lake 'Tra- 
falgar." There was a hot quarrel in consequence. 
Now, if I had been there, I would have arranged 
matters, by proposing as a title to meet the views of 
all parties, " The United Service Lake" 

* That would certainly have been very happy.' 

' How beautiful Margaret is ! ' said Vivian, rising 
from his Ottoman, and seating himself on the sofa 
by the lady. ' I always think, that this is the only 
Personification where Art has not rendered Innocence 

' Do you think so ? ' 

' Why, take Una in the Wilderness, or Goody Two 
Shoes. These, I believe, were the most innocent per- 
sons that ever existed, and I'm sure you will agree 
with me, they always look the most insipid. Nay, 
perhaps I was wrong in what I said; perhaps it is 



Insipidity that always look innocent, not Innocence 
always insipid.' 

' How can you refine so, Mr. Grey, when the 
thermometer is at 250 ! Pray, tell me some more 

' I cannot, I'm in a refining humour : I could 
almost lecture to-day at the Royal Institution. You 
would not call these exactly Prosopopeias of Inno- 
cence ?' said Vivian, turning over a bundle of Stewart 
Newton's beauties, languishing, and lithographed. 
' Newton, I suppose, like Lady Wortley Montague, 
is of opinion, that the face is not the most beautiful 
part of woman ; at least, if I am to judge from these 
elaborate ancles. Now the countenance of this Donna, 
forsooth, has a drowsy placidity worthy of the easy 
chair she is lolling in, and yet her ancle would not dis- 
grace the contorted frame of the most pious Faquir.' 

' Well ! I'm an admirer of Newton's paintings.' 

* Oh ! so am I. He's certainly a cleverish fellow, 
but rather too much among the blues ; a set, of 
whom, I would venture to say, Miss Manvers 
knoweth little about ? ' 

v Oh, not the least ! Mamma does not visit that 
way. What are they ?' 

* Oh, very powerful people ! though ' Mamma does 
not visit that way.'' They live chiefly about Cumber- 
land Gate. Their words are Ukases as far as Curzon 
Street, and very Decretals in the general vicinity of 
May Fair; but you shall have a further description 
another time. How those rooks bore ! I hate stay- 
ing with ancient families ; you're always cawed to 
death. If ever you write a novel, Miss Manvers, 
mind you have a rookery in it. Since Tremaine, 
and Washington Irving, nothing will go down 



'Oh ! by the bye, Mr. Grey, who is the author of 
Tremaine ?' 

' I'll tell you who is not* 

' Who ? ' 

' Mr. Ogle.' 

' But, really, who is the author ? ' 

' Oh ! I'll tell you in a moment. It's either Mr. 
Ryder, or Mr. Spencer Percival, or Mr. Dyson, or 
Miss Dyson, or Mr. Bowles, or the Duke of 
Buckingham, or Mr. Ward, or a young Officer in the 
Guards, or an old Clergyman in the North of Eng- 
land, or a middle-aged Barrister on the Midland 

' You're really so giddy, Mr. Grey, I wish you 
could get me an autograph of Mr. Washington 
Irving ; I want it for a particular friend.' 

' Give me a pen and ink ; I'll write you one 

' Oh ! Mr. Grey.' 

' There ! now you've made me blot Faustus.' 

At this moment the room-door suddenly opened, 
and as suddenly shut. 

' Who was that, Mr. Grey ?' 

' Mephistophiles, or Mrs. Felix Lorraine ; one or 
the other, perhaps both ! 

' Mr. Grey ! ' 

' What do you think of Mrs. Felix Lorraine, Miss 
Manvers ?' 

' Oh ! I think her a very amusing woman, a very 
clever woman, a very but ' 

' But, what ? ' 

' But I can't exactly make her out.' 

' Nor I, nor I she's a dark riddle ; and, although 
I am a very CEdipus, I confess I have not yet unra- 
velled it. Come, there's Washington Irving's 



autograph for you; read it, isn't it quite in character? 
Shall I write any more ? One of Sir Walter's, or 
Mr. Southey's, or Mr. Milman's, or Mr. D'Israeli's ? 
or shall I sprawl a Byron ? 

' Mr. Grey ! I really cannot patronize such un- 
principled conduct. You may make me one of Sir 
Walter's, however.' 

" Poor Washington, poor Washington ! ' said 
Vivian, writing ; ' I knew him well in London. He 
always slept at dinner. One day as he was dining at 
Mr. Hallam's, they took him, when asleep, to Lady 
Jersey's rout ; and, to see the Sieur Geoffrey, when 
he opened his eyes in the illumined saloons, was really 
quite admirable ! quite an Arabian tale ! ' 

' Oh, how delightful ! I should have so liked to 
have seen him ! He seems quite forgotten now in 
England. How came we to talk of him ? ' 

'Forgotten oh ! he spoilt his elegant talents in 
writing German and Italian twaddle with all the raw- 
ness of a Yankee. He ought never to have left 
America, at least in literature : there was an uncon- 
tested and glorious field for him. He should have 
been managing Director of the Hudson Bay Com- 
pany, and lived all his life among the beavers.' 

' I think there's nothing more pleasant, Mr. Grey, 
than talking over the season in the country, in 

' Nothing more agreeable. It was dull, though, 
last season, very dull ; I think the game cannot be 
kept going another year. If it wasn't for the 
General Election, we really must have a war for 
variety's sake. Peace gets quite a bore. Everybody 
you dine with commands a good cuisine, and gives you 
twelve different wines, all perfect. And as for Dr. 
Henderson, he is the amateur importer for the whole 



nation. We cannot bear this any longer ; all the 
lights and shadows of life are lost. The only good 
thing I heard this year, was an ancient gentlewoman 
going up to Gunter, and asking him for ' the receipt 
for that white stuff,' pointing to his Roman punch. 
I, who am a great man for receipts, gave it her 
immediately : " One hod of mortar to one bottle of 
Noyau: " 

* Oh, that was too bad ! and did she thank you ? ' 

' Thank me ! ay, truly ; and pushed a card into my 
hand, so thick and sharp that it cut through my glove. 
I wore my arm in a sling for a month afterwards.' 

4 And what was the card ?' 

' Oh, you need not look so arch ! The old lady 
was not even a faithless duenna. It was an invitation 
to an assembly, or something of the kind, at a locale^ 
somewhere, as Theodore Hook, or John Wilson 
Croker, would say, " between Mesopotamia and 
Russell-square." ' 

' Do you know Mr. Croker, Mr. Grey ?' 

' Not in the least. I look upon Mr. Croker and 
myself as the two sublimest men in the United 
Kingdom. When we do meet, the interview will be 

' Pray, Mr. Grey, is it true that all the houses in 
Russell-square are tenantless ?' 

' Quite true ; the Marquess of Tavistock has given 
up the county in consequence. A perfect shame 
is it not ? Let's write it up.' 

' An admirable plan ! but we'll take the houses 
first ; of course we can get them at a pepper-corn 

' What a pity, Miss Manvers, the fashion has gone 
out of selling oneself to the devil.' 

'Good gracious, Mr. Grey!' 



' On my honour, I am quite serious. It does 
appear to me to be a very great pity. What a capital 
plan for younger brothers ! It's a kind of thing I've 
been trying to do all my life, and never could succeed. 
I began at school with toasted cheese and a pitch-fork ; 
and since then I've invoked, with all the eloquence of 
Goethe, the evil one in the solitude of the Hartz ; 
but without success. I think I should make an ex- 
cellent bargain with him : of course, I don't mean 
that ugly vulgar savage with a fiery tail. Oh, no ! 
Satan himself for me, a perfect gentleman ! Or 
Belial, Belial would be the most delightful He's 
the fine genius of the Inferno, I imagine, the Beranger 
of Pandemonium.' 

' Mr. Grey, I really cannot listen to such nonsense 
one moment longer. What would you have if Belial 
were here ? ' 

* Let us see. Now, you shall act the spirit, and I, 
Vivian Grey. I wish we had a shorthand writer here 
to take down the Incantation Scene. We'd send it 
to Arnold. Commenfons Spirit ! I'll have a fair 

The lady bowed. 

' I'll have a palace in town.' 

The lady bowed. 

' I'll have lots of the best Havannah cigars.' 

The lady bowed. 

' I'll have a fair wife. Why, Miss Manvers, you 
forget to bow !' 

' Oh, dear ! Mr. Grey, I really beg your pardon !' 

' Come, this is a novel way of making an offer, 
and, I hope, a successful one.' 

* Julia, my dear,' cried a voice in the veranda, 
' Julia, my dear, I want you to walk with me.' 

' Say you are engaged with the Marchioness,' 



whispered Vivian, with a low but distinct voice; 
his eyes fixed on the table, and his lips not appearing 
to move. 

' Mamma, I'm ' 

1 1 want you immediately and particularly, Julia,' 
cried Lady Louisa, with an earnest voice. 

* I'm coming, I'm coming. You see I must go, 
Mr. Grey.' 



' CONFUSION on that old hag! Her eye looked evil 
on me, at the very moment ! Although a pretty 
wife is really the destruction of a young man's 
prospects, still, in the present case, the niece of my 
friend, my patron high family perfectly unexcep- 
tionable, &c. &c. &c. Such blue eyes ! upon my 
honour, this must be an exception to the general 
rule.' Here a light step attracted his attention, and, 
on turning round, he found Mrs. Felix Lorraine at 
his elbow. 

' Oh ! you're here \ Mr. Grey, acting the Soli- 
taire in the park. I want your opinion about a 
passage in " Hermann and Dorothea." 

' My opinion is always at your service ; but, if the 
passage is not perfectly clear to Mrs.' Felix Lorraine, 
it will be perfectly obscure, I am convinced, to me.' 

' Oh, dear ! after all my trouble, I've forgotten my 
book. How mortifying ! Well, I'll show it you 
after dinner : adieu ! and by the bye, Mr. Grey, as 
I am here, I may as well advise you not to spoil all 
the Marquess's timber, by carving a certain person's 
name on his park trees. I think your plans in that 
quarter are admirable. I've been walking with Lady 
Louisa the whole morning, and you can't think how 



I puffed you ! Courage, Cavalier, and we shall 
soon be connected, not only in friendship, but in 

The next morning at breakfast, Vivian was sur- 
prised to find that the Manvers party was suddenly 
about to leave the Castle. All were disconsolate at 
their departure, for there was to be a grand entertain- 
ment at Chateau Desir that very day ; but particularly 
Mrs. Felix Lorraine, and Mr. Vivian Grey. The 
sudden departure was accounted for by the arrival of 
' unexpected,' &c. &c. &c. There was no hope, 
the green-post chariot was at the door a feeble pro- 
mise of a speedy return ! Julia's eyes were filled 
with tears. Vivian was springing forward to press 
her hand, and bear her to the carriage, when Mrs. 
Felix Lorraine seized his arm, vowed she was going 
to faint, and, ere she could recover herself, or loosen 
her grasp, the Manvers, were gone. 



THE gloom which the parting had diffused over all 
countenances, was quite dispelled when the Marquess 

' Lady Carabas,' said he, ' you must prepare for 
crowds of visitors to-day. There are the Amer- 
shams, and Lord Alhambra, and Ernest Clay, and 
twenty other young heroes, who, duly informed that 
the Miss Courtowns were honouring us with their 
presence, are pouring in from all quarters Isn't it so, 
Juliana ? ' gallantly asked the Marquess of Miss Cour- 
town : ' but who do you think is coming besides? ' 

* Who, who ? ' exclaimed all. 

' Nay, you shall guess,' said the Peer. 



' The Duke of Waterloo ? ' guessed Cynthia Cour- 
town, the romp. 

' Prince Hungary ? ' asked her sister Laura. 

' Is it a gentleman ? ' asked Mrs. Felix Lorraine. 

' No, no, you're all wrong, and all very stupid. 
It's Mrs. Million.' 

' Oh, how delightful ! ' said Cynthia. 

' Oh, how annoying ! ' said the Marchioness. 

' You need not look so agitated, my love,' said 
the Marquess ; ' I have written Mrs. Million to say 
that we shall be most happy to see her; but as the 
Castle is very full, she must not come with fifty car- 
riages and four, as she did last year.' 

' And will Mrs. Million dine with us in the hall, 
Marquess ? ' asked Cynthia Courtown. 

' Mrs. Million will do what she likes ; I only 
know that I shall dine in the hall, whatever happens, 
and whoever comes ; and so, I suppose, will Miss 
Cynthia Courtown ? ' 

Vivian rode out alone, immediately after breakfast, 
to cure his melancholy by a hard gallop. He left 
his horse to choose its own road ; and, at length, he 
found himself plunging in a corn field. 

' Halloo, sir ! beg pardon ; but your horse's feet 
will do no good to that standing corn ; for when 
there 's plenty of roads to ride over my maxim is, 
keep out of inclosures.' 

Vivian turned round, and recognized a friend in 
the person of a substantial and neighbouring farmer. 

Daniel Groves, or as he was commonly called 
Mister Groves, was one of those singular personages 
whose eccentricities procure them, from all the sur- 
rounding neighbourhood, the reputation of being 
' quite a character.' Daniel was a stout-built, 
athletic man, with a fine florid countenance, and a 
F 81 


few grey hairs straggling over his forehead, and 
beautifully contrasting with his carnationed com- 
plexion. His hazel eyes were very small, but they 
twinkled with perpetual action. A turned-up nose 
gave his countenance a somewhat conceited expression ; 
and, as he was in the habit of being consulted by the 
whole county, this expression became so habitual, 
that Mr. Groves always looked as if he himself quite 
agreed with the general opinion that he was ' one 
of the most long-headed fellows in these parts,' and 
' quite a character.' Daniel was not only opulent 
but flourishing; but he was not above attending to 
all the details of his farm, though frequently admitted 
to the tables of the principal neighbouring gentry. 

But by this time Mister Groves, with a peculiarly 
large pet pitchfork over one shoulder, and a handful 
of corn in the other hand, with which he occasionally 
nourished his ample frame in his toilsome march 
over the stubble, has reached the trespasser. 

' What ! is it you, Mr. Grey ? who thought of 
seeing you here ? ' 

' Oh ! Mr. Groves, I was'nt aware I was trespassing 
on your corn.' 

* Oh ! no matter, no matter ; friends are always 
welcome, that's my maxim. But if you could keep a 
kettle nearer to the hedge.' 

' Oh ! I'll come out immediately. Which way are 
you going ? I've been thinking of calling on you.' 

' Well now, do, Sir ; ride home with me and take 
a bit of something to eat. My mistress will be 
remarkable glad to see you. There's some nice 
cold pickled pork we've an excellent cheese in cut ; 
and as fine a barrel of ale in broach as you ever 

* Why, Groves ! really I can't turn back to-day, 



for I want to look in at Conyers, and ask him about 
that trout stream.' 

* Well, Sir ! I'm sorry you're so pushed, but I do 
wish you'd come in some day quite promiscuous. 
You said you would, for I want your opinion of 
some port wine I'm going to take with a friend.' 

' So I will with the greatest pleasure, but I'm not 
at all a good judge of port, it's too heavy for me; 
I'd sooner taste your ale.' 

* Ah ! it's the fashion of you young squires to cry 
down port wine; but depend upon't, it's the real 
stuff. We never should have beat the French, if it 
hadn't been for their poor sour wines. That's my 

* Shall you dine at the Chateau to-day ? ' 

' Why you see the Markiss makes such a point of 
it, that I can't well be off. And the county should 
be kept together sometimes. That's the ground I 
go upon.' 

' Oh ! do come you must come we can't do 
without you ; it's nothing without you, Groves.' 

' Well, really, you're very good to say so, so I 
can't say but what I will ; but I hope there'll be 
something to eat and drink, which I know the name 
of, for the last time I 'tended, there was nothing but 
kickshaws ; my stomach's not used to such Frenchified 
messes, and I was altogether no-howish by the time I 
got home. I said to my mistress, " really," says 
I, " I don't know what's the matter with me, but my 
stomach's going remarkable wrong;" so she advised 
me to take a good stiff glass of brandy and water, 
while she got a couple of ducks roasted for supper, 
for peas were just in ; sure enough that's all I wanted, 
for I slept well after it, and got up quite my own 
man again. There's nothing like a glass of brandy 



and water, cold, without sugar, when you're out of 
sorts. That's my maxim.' 

* And a very good maxim too, Mr. Groves. I 
wish I could get you one of these mornings to look 
at a horse for me.' 

' I shall be very glad. The one you're on, seems 
rather weak in the fore legs ; 1 should blister him, if 
he belonged to me. But as to getting you a horse, 
why, it's the wrong time of year ; and I'm so remark- 
able pushed on that point, that I hardly know what 
to say, but still I always like to do a good turn for a 
friend, that's my maxim, so I can't say but what I'll 
see about it. There's Harry Mounteney now, he 
wants me to ride over to Woodbury, to look at 
a brown mare ; Stapylton Toad too, he says he's 
never satisfied without my opinion, though he 
generally takes his own in the long run. Ah ! those 
Londoners know nothing about horseflesh. Well, 
any day you'll call, I'm your man.' 

' Well, thank you, thank you, I shall keep you to 
your promise.' 

* Well, Sir ! good morning, pleasant ride to you. 
You'll keep to the roads, I'm sure, till harvest's in : 
though they mayn't be over good for a carriage, 
they're very fair for a bridle. That's the ground 
I stand upon.' 

As Vivian was returning home, he intended to look 
in at a pretty cottage near the park, where lived one 
John Conyers, an honest husbandman, and a great 
friend of Vivian's. This man had, about a fortnight 
ago, been of essential service to our hero, when 
a vicious horse, which he was endeavouring to cure 
of some ugly tricks, had nearly terminated his mortal 

* Why are you crying so, my boy ? ' asked Vivian 



of a little Conyers,. who was sobbing bitterly at the 
cottage door. He was answered only with desperate 
sobs. * Is your father at home ? ' 

* Oh, 'tis your honour ! ' said a decent-looking 
woman, who came out of the cottage ; ' I thought 
they had come back again.' 

* Come back again ! why, what's the matter, 
dame ? ' 

* Oh ! your honour, we're in sad distress ; there's 
been a seizure this morning, and I'm mortal fear'd 
the good man's beside himself!' 

' Good Heavens ! why didn't you come to the 
castle ? The Marquess surely never gave orders for 
the infliction of this misery.' 

' Oh ! your honour, we a'n't his Lordship's tenants 
no longer ; there's been a change for Purley Mead, 
and now we're Lord Mounteney's people. John 
Conyers has been behindhand ever since he had 
the fever, but Mr. Sedgwick always gave time : but 
Lord Mounteney's gem'man says the system's bad, 
and so he'll put an end to it ; and so all's gone, your 
honour ; all's gone, and I'm mortal fear'd the good 
man's beside himself.' 

' And who's Lord Mounteney's man of business ? ' 

' Mr. Stapylton Toad,' sobbed the good dame. 

' Here, boy, leave off crying, and hold my horse ; 
keep your hold tight, but give him rein, he'll be quiet 
enough then. I'll see honest John, dame Conyers.' 

' I'm sure your honour's very kind, but I'm mortal 
feared the good man's beside himself, and he's apt to 
do very violent things when the fit's on him. He 
hasn't been so bad, since young Barton behaved so 
wickedly to his sister.' 

' Never mind ! I'll see him ; there's nothing like a 
friend's face in the hour of sorrow.' 



' I wouldn't advise your honour,' said the good 
dame, with a fearful expression of countenance ; ' It's 
an awful hour when the fit's on him ; he knows not 
friend or foe, and scarcely seems to know me, your 

' Never mind, never mind, I'll see him.' 

Vivian entered the cottage, but, oh ! the scene of 
desolation, who shall describe ? The room was 
entirely stripped, literally of every thing ; there was 
nothing left, save the bare white-washed walls, and 
the red tiled flooring. The room was darkened ; 
and seated on an old block of wood, which had been 
pulled out of the orchard, since the bailiff had left, 
was John Conyers. The fire was out, but his feet 
were still among the ashes. His head was buried in 
his hands, and bowed down nearly to his knees. The 
eldest girl, a fine sensible child of about thirteen, was 
sitting with two brothers on the floor in a corner of 
the room, motionless, their faces grave, and still as 
death, but tearless. Three young children, of an age 
too tender to know grief, were acting unmeaning 
gambols near the door. 

' Oh ! pray beware, your honour,' earnestly whis- 
pered the poor dame, as she entered the cottage with 
the visitor. 

Vivian walked up with a silent step to the end of 
the room, where John Conyers was sitting. He 
remembered this little room, when he thought it the 
very model of the abode of an English husbandman. 
The neat row of plates, and the well-scoured utensils, 
and the fine old Dutch clock, and the ancient and 
amusing ballad, purchased at some neighbouring fair, 
or of some itinerant bibliopole, and pinned against 
the wall all, all were gone ! 

* John Conyers ! ' exclaimed Vivian. 



There was no answer, nor did the miserable man 
appear in the slightest degree to be sensible of 
Vivian's presence. 

' My good John Conyers ! ' 

The man raised his head from his resting place, 
and turned to the spot whence tTie voice proceeded. 
There was such an unnatural fire in his eyes, that 
Vivian's spirit almost quailed. Any one, but Vivian 
Grey, would have fled the house. His alarm was not 
decreased when he perceived, that the master of the 
cottage did not recognize him. The fearful stare 
was, however, short, and again the sufferer's face was 

The wife was advancing, but Vivian waved his 
hand to her to withdraw, and she accordingly fell into 
the back ground ; but her fixed eye did not leave her 
husband for a second. 

' John Conyers, it is your friend, Mr. Vivian Grey, 
who is here,' said Vivian. 

' Grey ! ' moaned the husbandman, ' Grey ! who 
is he ? ' 

' Your friend, John Conyers. Do you quite forget 
me ? ' said Vivian advancing, and with a tone which 
Vivian Grey could alone assume. 

' I think I have seen you, and you were kind,' 
and the face was again hid. 

' And always will be kind, John Conyers. I have 
come to comfort you. I thought that a friend's 
voice would do you good in this hour of your 
affliction. Come, come, my good Conyers, cheer 
up, my man ! ' and Vivian dared to touch him. His 
hand was not repulsed. ' Do you remember what 
good service you did me when I rode white-footed 
Moll. Oh ! John Conyers, when the mare was 
plunging on the hill-top, I was much worse off than 



you are now ; and yet, you see, a friend came and 
saved me. You must not give way so, my good 
fellow. After all, a little management will set every 
thing right,' and he took the husbandman's sturdy 
hand. John Conyers looked wildly round, but the 
unnatural fire that had glistened in his eyes was 

' I do remember you,' he faintly cried ; ' I do 
remember you. Ton were always very kind.' 

' And always will be, I repeat, John Conyers ; at 
least to friends like you. Come, come, there's a man, 
cheer up and look about you, and let the sunbeam 
enter your cottage : ' and Vivian beckoned to the 
wife to open the closed shutter. 

Conyers stared around him, but his eye rested only 
on bare walls, and the big tear coursed down his 
hardy cheek. 

' Nay, never mind man ! ' said Vivian, ' we'll soon 
have chairs and tables again. And as for the rent, 
think no more about that at present.' 

The husbandman looked up to heaven, and then 
burst into the most violent hysterics. Vivian could 
scarcely hold down the powerful, and convulsed, 
frame of Conyers on his rugged seat ; but the wife 
advanced from the back of the room, and her 
husband's head rested against her bosom. Vivian 
held his honest hand, and the eldest girl rose un- 
bidden from her silent sorrow, and clung to her 
father's knee. 

* The fit is over,' whispered the wife. * There, 
there, there's a man, all is now well ; ' and Vivian 
left him resting on his wife's bosom. 

' Here, you curly-headed rascal, scamper down to 
the village immediately, and bring up a basket of 
something to eat ; and tell Morgan Price, that Mr. 



Grey says he's to send up a couple of beds, and some 
chairs here immediately, and some plates and dishes, 
and every thing else, and don't forget a bottle of 
wine ;' so saying, Vivian flung the urchin a sovereign. 
' And now, Dame Conyers, for Heaven's sake ! 
light the fire. As for the rent, John Conyers, do 
not waste this trifle on that] whispered Vivian, 
slipping his purse into his hand, 'for I'll see Stapylton 
Toad, and get time. Why, woman, you'll never 
strike a light, if your tears drop so fast into the 
tinder-box. Here give it me. You're not fit for 
work to-day. And how's the trout in Ravely Mead, 
John, this hot weather ? You know you never kept 
your promise with me. Oh ! you're a sad fellow ! 
There ! there's a spark ! I wonder why old Toad 
didn't take the tinder-box. It's a very valuable piece 
of property, at least to us. Run and get me some 
wood, that's a good boy. And so white-footed 
Moll's past all recovery ? Well, she was a pretty 
creature ! There, that will do famously,' said Vivian, 
fanning the flame with his hat. ' See, it mounts 
well ! And now, God bless you all ! for I'm an 
hour too late, and must scamper for my very life.' 



MRS. MILLION arrived, and kept her promise ; only 
three carriages and four ! Out of the first descended 
the mighty lady herself, with some noble friends, 
who formed the most distinguished part of her suite : 
out of the second came her physician, Dr. Sly ; her 
toad-eater, Miss Gusset ; her secretary, and her page. 
The third carriage bore her groom of the chambers, 
and three female attendants. There were only two 



men servants to each equipage ; nothing could be 
more moderate, or, as Miss Gusset said, ' in better 

Mrs. Million, after having granted the Marquess 
a private interview in her private apartments, signified 
her imperial intention of dining in public, which, as 
she had arrived late, she trusted she might do in her 
travelling dress. The Marquess kotooed like a first- 
rate mandarin, and vowed ' that her will was his 

The whole suite of apartments was thrown open ; 
and was crowded with guests. Mrs. Million entered; 
she was leaning on the Marquess's arm, and in a 
travelling dress, namely, a crimson silk pelisse, hat 
and feathers, with diamond ear-rings, and a rope of 
gold round her neck. A train of about twelve 
persons, consisting of her noble fellow travellers, 
toad-eaters, physicians, secretaries, &c. &c. &c. 
followed. The entree of his Majesty could not 
have created a greater sensation, than did that of 
Mrs. Million. All fell back. Gartered peers, and 
starred ambassadors, and baronets with titles older 
than the creation, and squires, to the antiquity of 
whose blood chaos was a novelty; all retreated, with 
eyes that scarcely dared to leave the ground even 
Sir Plantagenet Pure, whose family had refused a 
peerage regularly every century, now, for the first 
time in his life, seemed cowed, and in an awkward 
retreat to make way for the approaching presence, 
got entangled with the Mameluke boots of my Lord 

At last, a sofa was gained, and the great lady was 
seated, and the sensation having somewhat subsided, 
conversation was resumed ; and the mighty Mrs. 
Million was not slightly abused, particularly by those 



who had bowed lowest at her entree ; and now the 
Marquess of Carabas, as was wittily observed by Mr. 
Septimus Sessions, a pert young barrister, ' went the 
circuit,' that is to say, made the grand tour of the 
suite of apartments, making remarks to every one of 
his guests, and keeping up his influence in the county. 

* Ah, my Lord Alhambra ! this is too kind : and 
how is your excellent father, and my good friend ? 
Sir Plantagenet, your's most sincerely ; we shall have 
no difficulty about that right of common. Mr. 
Leverton, I hope you find the new plough work 
well your son, sir, will do the county honour. Sir 
Godfrey, I saw Barton upon that point, as I promised. 

Lady Julia, I'm rejoiced to see ye at Chateau Desir, 
more blooming than ever ! Good Mr. Stapylton 
Toad, so that little change was effected ! My Lord 
Devildrain, this is a pleasure indeed \ ' 

'Why, Ernest Clay,' said Mr. Buckhurst Stan- 
hope, ' I thought Alhambra wore a turban I'm 
quite disappointed.' 

' Not in the country, Stanhope ; here, he only sits 
cross-legged on an ottoman, and carves his venison 
with an ataghan.' 

* Well, I'm glad he doesn't wear a turban that 
would be bad taste, I think ; ' said Fool Stanhope. 
' Have you read his poem ?' 

1 A little. He sent me a copy, and as I'm in the 
habit of lighting my cigar or so occasionally with a 
leaf, why I can't help occasionally seeing a line it 
seems quite first-rate.' 

' Indeed !' said Fool Stanhope, < I must get it.' 
' My dear PufF ! I'm quite glad to find you here,' 
said Mr. Cayenne, a celebrated reviewer, to Mr. 
Parthenopex PufF, a small literateur and smaller wit. 
' Have you seen Middle Ages lately ?' 



* Not very lately,' drawled Mr. Parthenopex. ' I 
breakfasted with him before I left town, and met a 
Professor Bopp there, a very interesting man, and 
Principal of the celebrated University of Heligoland, 
the model of the London.' 

'Ah ! indeed ! talking of the London, is Foaming 
Fudge to come in for Westmoreland ?' 

' Doubtless ! Oh ! he's a prodigious fellow ! 
What do you think Booby says ? he says, that 
Foaming Fudge can do more than any man in Great 
Britain : that he had one day to plead in the King's 
Bench, spout at a tavern, speak in the house, and 
fight a duel and that he found time for every thing 
but the last? 

( Excellent ! ' laughed Mr. Cayenne. 

Mr. Parthenopex Puff was reputed in a certain 
set, a sayer of good things, but he was a modest wit, 
and generally fathered his bon mots on his valet 
Booby, his monkey, or his parrot. 

' I saw you in the last number,' said Cayenne. 
' From the quotations from your own works, I 
imagine the review of your own book was by 
yourself ? * 

' What do you think Booby said ? ' 

' Mr. Puff, allow me to introduce you to Lord 
Alhambra,' said Ernest Clay, by which means Mr. 
Puff's servant's last good thing was lost. 

* Mr. Clay, are you an archer ? ' asked Cynthia 

' No, fair Dian ; but I can act Endymion.' 
' I don't know what you mean go away.' 
' Aubrey Vere, welcome to shire. Have you 

seen Prima Donna ? ' 

' No, is he here ? How did you like his last song 

in the Age ? ' 



' His last song ! Pooh ! he only supplies the 

' Groves,' said Sir Hanway Etherington, ' have 
you seen the newspaper this morning ? Baron 
Crupper has tried fifteen men for horse stealing at 
York, and acquitted every one.' 

* Well then, Sir Hanway, I think his Lordship's 
remarkable wrong ; for when a man gets a horse to 
suit him, if he loses it, 'tisn't so easy to suit himself 
again. That's the ground I stand upon.' 

' Well, there's a good deal in what you say, 
Groves. By the bye, have you let that nice house 
which your father used to live in ? ' 

' No, Sir Hanway, no ! I keep it, in case any 
thing should happen to Tom, for he's getting a very 
likely young man, and he'll be fittish to marry soon. 
That's the ground I stand upon.' 

All this time the Marquess of Carabas had wanted 
Vivian Grey twenty times, but that gentleman had 
not appeared. The important moment arrived, and 
his Lordship offered his arm to Mrs. Million, who, 
as the Gotha Almanack says, ' takes precedence 
of all Archduchesses, Grand Duchesses, Duchesses, 
Princesses, Landgravines, Margravines, Palsgravines, 
etc. etc. etc.' 



IN their passage to the Hall, the Marquess and Mrs. 
Million met Vivian Grey, booted and spurred, and 
covered with mud. 

' Oh ! Mrs. Million Mr. Vivian Grey. How's 
this, my dear fellow ? you'll be too late.' 

' Immense honour ! ' said Vivian, bowing to the 
ground to the lady. ' Oh ! my Lord, I was late, 



and made a short cut over Fearnley Bog. It has 
proved a very Moscow expedition. However I'm 
keeping you. I shall be in time for the guava and 
liqueurs, and you know that's the only refreshment 
I ever take.' 

' Who is that, Marquess ? ' asked Mrs. Million. 

' That is Mr. Vivian Grey, the most monstrous 
clever young man, and nicest fellow I know.' 

' He does indeed seem a very nice young man, 
said Mrs Million ; for she rather admired Vivian's 
precocious taste for liqueurs. 

I wish some steam process could be invented for 
arranging guests when they are above five hundred. 
In the present instance all went wrong when they 
entered the Hall ; but, at last, the arrangements, 
which, by the bye, were of the simplest nature, were 
comprehended, and the guests were seated. There 
were three tables, each stretching down the Hall ; 
the Dais was occupied by a military band. The 
number of guests, the contrast between the antique 
chamber, and their modern costumes, the music, the 
various liveried menials, all combined to produce 
a- tout ensemble, which at the same time was very 
striking, and ' in remarkable good taste.' 

In process of time, Mr. Vivian Grey made his 
entree. There were a few vacant seats at the bottom 
of the table, ' luckily for him,' as kindly remarked 
Mr. Grumbleton. To the astonishment and indig- 
nation, however, of this worthy squire, the late 
comer passed by the unoccupied position, and pro- 
ceeded onward with the most undaunted coolness, 
until he came to about the middle of the middle table, 
and which was nearly the best situation in the hall. 

' Beautiful Cynthia,' said Vivian Grey, softly and 
sweetly whispering in Miss Courtown's ear, ' I'm 



sure you will give up your place to me ; you have 
nerve enough, you know, for any thing, and would 
no more care for standing out, than I for sitting in.' 
There's nothing like giving a romp credit for a little 
boldness. To keep up her character, she will out- 
herod Herod. 

* Oh ! Grey, is it you ? certainly you shall have 
my place immediately but I'm not sure that we 
cannot make room for you. Dormer Stanhope, 
room must be made for Grey, or I shall leave the 
table immediately ; you men ! ' said the hoyden, 
turning round to a set of surrounding servants, 'push 
this form down, and put a chair between.' 

The men obeyed. All who sat lower in the table 
on Miss Cynthia Courtown's side than that lady, 
were suddenly propelled downwards about the dis- 
tance of two feet. Dr. Sly, who was flourishing an 
immense carving-knife and fork, preparatory to dis- 
secting a very gorgeous haunch, had these fearful 
instruments suddenly precipitated into a trifle, from 
whose sugared trellice-work he found great difficulty 
in extricating them ; while Miss Gusset, who was on 
the point of cooling herself with some exquisite iced 
jelly, found her frigid portion as suddenly trans- 
formed into a plate of peculiarly ardent curry, the 
property, but a moment before, of old Colonel Ran- 
goon. Every thing, however, receives a civil 
reception from a toad-eater, so Miss Gusset burnt 
herself to death by devouring a composition, which 
would have reduced any one to ashes who had not 
fought against Bundoolah. 

' Now, that's what I call a very sensible arrange- 
ment ; what could go off better ?' said Vivian. 

1 You may think so, Sir,' said Mr. Boreall, a sharp- 
nosed and conceited-looking man, who, having got 



among a set whom he didn't the least understand, 
was determined to take up Dr. Sly's quarrel, merely 
for the sake of conversation. 'You, I say, Sir, may 
think it so, but I rather imagine that the ladies and 
gentlemen lower down can hardly think it a very 
sensible arrangement ; ' and here Boreall looked as if he 
had done his duty, in giving a young man a proper 

Vivian glanced a look, which would have been 
annihilation to any one, not a freeholder of five 
hundred acres. * I had reckoned upon two deaths, 
Sir, when I entered the hall, and finding, as I do, 
that the whole business has apparently gone off" with- 
out any fatal accident, why, I think the circumstances 
bear me out in my expression.' 

Mr. Boreall was one of those unfortunate men 
who always take things au pied de lettre : he con- 
sequently looked amazed, and exclaimed, ' Two 
deaths, Sir ? ' 

* Yes, Sir, two deaths ; I reckoned, of course, on 
some corpulent parent being crushed to death in the 
scuffle, and then I should have had to shoot his son 
through the head for his filial satisfaction. Dormer 
Stanhope, I never thanked you for exerting your- 
self: send me that fricandeau you have just helped 
yourself to.' 

Dorman, who was, as Vivian well knew, something 
of an epicure, looked rather annoyed, but by this 
time he was accustomed to Vivian Grey, and sent him 
the portion he had intended for himself could 
epicure do more ? 

' Who are we among, bright Cynthia ? ' asked 

' Oh ! an odd set,' said the lady, looking dignified ; 
' but you know we can be exclusive.'' 



'Exclusive \ pooh ! trash talk to every body it 
looks as if you were going to stand for the county. 
Have we any of the Millionaires near us ? ' 

' The Doctor, and Toadey are lower down.' 

' Where's Mrs. Felix Lorraine ?' 

' At the opposite table, with Ernest Clay.' 

' Oh ! there's Alhambra next to Dormer Stan- 
hope. Lord Alhambra, I'm quite rejoiced to see 

' Ah ! Mr. Grey I'm quite rejoiced to see you. 
How's your father ? ' 

' Extremely well he's at Paris I heard from him 
yesterday. Do you ever see the Weimar Literary 
Gazette, my Lord ?' 

'No; why ?' 

' There's a most admirable review of your poem, 
in the last number I've received.' 

The young nobleman looked agitated. ' I think, 
by the style,' continued Vivian, ' that it's by Goethe. 
It is really quite delightful to see the oldest poet in 
Europe, dilating on the brilliancy of a new star in the 
poetical horizon.' 

This was uttered with a perfectly grave voice, and 
now the young nobleman blushed ' Who is Gewter? 
asked Mr. Boreall, who possessed such a thirst for 
knowledge, that he never allowed an opportunity to 
escape him of displaying his ignorance. 

' A celebrated German writer,' lisped the modest 
Miss Macdonald, who was, of course, beginning 

' I never heard his name,' persevered the indefatig- 
able Boreall ; ' how do you spell it ? ' 

'GOETHE,' relisped modesty. 

* Oh ! Goty ! ' exclaimed the querist ' I know him 
well : he wrote the Sorrows of Werther.' 
G 97 


' Did he indeed, Sir ?' asked Vivian, with the most 
innocent and inquiring face. 

* Oh ! don't you know that ?' said Boreall ; ' and 
poor stuff it is ! ' and here the worthy, and vulgar, 
landholder laughed loud and long. 

* Lord Alhambra ! I'll take a glass of Johannis- 
berg with you, if the Marquess's wines are in the 
state they should be 

" The Crescent warriors sipped their sherbet spiced, 
For Christian men the various wines were iced" 

I always think that those are the two most admirable 
lines in your Lordship's poem,' said Vivian. 

His Lordship did not exactly remember them : it 
would have been a wonder if he had : but he 
thought Vivian Grey the most delightful fellow he 
ever met, and determined to ask him to Helicon 
Castle for the Christmas holidays. 

'Flat! flat!' said Vivian, as he dwelt upon the 
flavour of the Rhine's glory. Not exactly from the 
favourite binn of Prince Metternich, I think. By-the- 
bye, Dormer Stanhope, you've a taste that way ; I'll 
tell you two secrets, which never forget ; decant your 
Johannisberg, and ice your Maraschino. Ay, don't 
stare, my dear Gastronome, but do it.' 

'Oh, Vivian Grey, you little love! why didn't you 
come and speak to me ? ' exclaimed a lady who was 
sitting at the side opposite Vivian, but much higher 
in the table. 

' Ah ! adorable Lady Julia ! and so you were done 
on the grey filly.' 

' Done / ' said the sporting beauty with pouting 
lips ; ' but it's a long story, and I'll tell it you 
another time.' 

'Ah! do. How's Sir Peter?' 



'Oh ! he's had a fit or two since you saw him last.' 

'Poor old gentleman ! let's drink his health ;' and 
the Baronet's recovery was quaffed by the lady, and 
Vivian, with a very piquant expression of counten- 

'Do you know Lady Julia Knighton ? ' asked Vivian 
of his neighbour. Before he could receive an answer, 
he was again rattling on : ' This hall is bearable to 
dine in ; but I once breakfasted here, and I never 
shall forget the ludicrous effect produced by the sun 
through the oriel window. Such complexions! Every 
one looked like a prize fighter ten days after a battle. 
After all, painted glass is a bore ; I wish the Marquess 
would have it knocked out, and have plated.' 

'Knock out the painted glass! ' said Mr. Boreall ; 
' well, I must confess / cannot agree with you.' 

' I should have been extremely surprised if you 
could. If you don't insult that man, Miss Courtown, 
in ten minutes I shall be no more. I've already a 
nervous fever.' 

' May I have the honour of taking a glass of 
Champagne with you, Mr. Grey ? ' said Boreall. 

' Mr. Grey, indeed ! ' muttered Vivian : ' Sir, I 
never drink anything but brandy.' 

' Allow me to give you some Champagne, Miss,' 
resumed Boreall, as he attacked the modest Miss 
Macdonald; ' Champagne, you know,' continued he, 
with a smile of agonising courtesy, ' is quite the lady's 

' Cynthia Courtown,' whispered Vivian with a 
sepulchral voice, 'tis all over with me I've been 
thinking what could come next. This is too much 
I'm already dead have Boreall arrested ; the chain 
of circumstantial evidence is very strong.' 

' Baker !' said Vivian, turning to a servant, ' Go 



and enquire if Mr. Stapylton Toad dines at the 
Castle to-day.' 

A flourish of trumpets announced the rise of the 
Marchioness of Carabas, and in a few minutes the 
most ornamental portion of the guests had dis- 
appeared. The gentlemen made a general ' move 
up,' and Vivian found himself opposite his friend, 
Mr. Hargrave. 

' Ah ! Mr. Hargrave, how d'ye do ? What do you 
think of the Secretary's state paper ?' 

' A magnificent composition, and quite unanswer- 
able. I was just speaking of it to my friend here, 
Mr. Metternich Scribe. Allow me to introduce you 
to Mr. Metternich Scribe.' 

'Mr. Metternich Scribe Mr. Vivian Grey!' and 
here Mr. Hargrave introduced Vivian to an effemin- 
ate-looking, perfumed, young man, with a handsome, 
unmeaning face, and very white hands. In short, as 
dapper a little diplomatist as ever tattled about the 
Congress of Verona, smirked at Lady Almack's 
supper after the opera, or vowed ' that Richmond 
Terrace was a most convenient situation for official 

' We have had it with us many weeks before the 
public received it,' said the future under-secretary, 
with a look at once condescending, and conceited. 

'Have you?' said Vivian: 'well, it does your 
office credit. It's a singular thing, that Canning, and 
Croker, are the only official men who can write 

The dismayed young gentleman of the Foreign 
Office was about to mince a repartee, when Vivian 
left his seat, for he had a great deal of business to 
transact. ' Mr. Leverton,' said he, accosting a 
flourishing grazier, ' I have received a letter from my 



friend, M. De Noe. He is desirous of purchasing 
some Leicestershires for his estate in Burgundy. 
Pray, may I take the liberty of introducing his agent 
to you ? ' 

Mr. Leverton was delighted. 

' I also wanted to see you about some other little 
business. Let me see what was it. Never mind, 
I'll take my wine here, if you can make room for 
me ; I shall remember it, I dare say, soon. Oh ! 
by-the-bye ah ! that was it. Stapylton Toad Mr. 
Stapylton Toad ; I want to know all about Mr. 
Stapylton Toad I dare say you can tell me. A 
friend of mine intends to consult him on a little 
parliamentary business, and he wishes to know some- 
thing about him before he calls.' 

As I am a great lover of conciseness, I shall 
resumer* for the benefit of the reader, the informa- 
tion of Mr. Leverton. 

Stapylton Toad had not the honour of being 
acquainted with his father's name ; but as the son 
found himself, at an early age, apprenticed to a 
solicitor of eminence, he was of opinion that his 
parent must have been respectable. Respectable ! 
mysterious word ! Stapylton was a very diligent and 
faithful clerk, but was not as fortunate in his ap- 
prenticeship as the celebrated Whittington, for his 

* I have ventured on using this word, in spite of the plaintive 
remonstrances contained in a pretty little article in the last Number 
of the Quarterly Review. I deprecate equally with the Reviewer, 
' the hodge-podge of languages,' now so much in vogue ; and al- 
though I am not quite prepared to say that I consider this practice 
' as nauseous as wearing perfumes,' I must exceedingly regret that 
such an authority as the Quarterly Review, and so strenuous an 
advocate for ' keeping our pure well of English undefiled,' as this 
Quarterly Reviewer, should interlard his sentences with the tritest 
Latin quotations, with a classical enthusiasm worthy of a very young 
school-boy, or a very ancient school-master. 



master had no daughter, and many sons ; in conse- 
quence of which, Stapylton, not being able to become 
his master's partner, became his master's rival. 

On the door of one of the shabbiest houses in 
Jermyn-street, the name of Mr. Stapylton Toad for 
a long time figured, magnificently engraved on a 
broad brass plate. There was nothing, however, 
otherwise, in the appearance of the establishment, 
which indicated that Mr. Toad's progress was very 
rapid, or his professional career extraordinarily pros- 
perous. In an outward office one solitary clerk was 
seen, oftener stirring his office fire, than wasting his 
master's ink ; and Mr. Toad was known by his 
brother attorneys, as a gentleman who was not re- 
corded in the courts as ever having conducted a 
single cause. In a few years, however, a story was 
added to the Jermyn-street abode, which new pointed, 
and new painted, began to assume a most mansion- 
like appearance. The house-door was also thrown 
open, for the solitary clerk no longer found time to 
answer the often agitated bell ; and the eyes of the 
entering client were now saluted by a gorgeous green 
baize office door ; the imposing appearance of which 
was only equalled by Mr. Toad's new private portal, 
splendid with a brass knocker, and patent varnish. 
And now his brother attorneys began to wonder 
' how Toad got on ! and who Toad's clients were ! ' 

A few more years rolled over, and Mr. Toad was 
seen riding in the Park at a most classical hour, 
attended by a groom in a most classical livery. And 
now ' the profession ' wondered still more, and sig- 
nificant looks were interchanged by * the respectable 
houses ; ' and flourishing practitioners in the City 
shrugged up their shoulders, and talked mysteriously 
of ' money business,' and ' some odd work in an- 



nuities.' In spite, however, of the charitable surmises 
of his brother lawyers, it must be confessed, that 
nothing of even an equivocal nature, ever transpired 
against the character of the flourishing Mr. Toad, 
who, to complete the mortification of his less success- 
ful rivals, married, and at the same time moved from 
Jermyn-street to Cavendish-square. The new resi- 
dence of Mr. Toad, had previously been the mansion 
of a noble client, and one whom, as the world said, 
Mr. Toad ' had got out of difficulties.' This sig- 
nificant phrase will probably throw some light upon 
the nature of the mysterious business of our prosper- 
ous practitioner. Noble Lords who have been in 
difficulties, will not much wonder at the prosperity of 
those who get them out. 

About this time Mr. Toad became acquainted, with 
Lord Mounteney, a nobleman in great distress, with 
fifty thousand per annum. His Lordship ( really 
did not know how he got involved '; he never gamed, 
he was not married, and his consequent expenses had 
never been unreasonable ; he was not extraordinarily 
negligent quite the reverse, was something of a 
man of business, remembered once looking over his 
accounts ; and yet, in spite of his regular and correct 
career, found himself quite involved, and must leave 

The arrangement of the Mounteney property was 
the coup finale of Mr. Stapylton Toad's professional 
celebrity. His Lordship was not under the necessity 
of quitting England ; and found himself, in the 
course of five years, in the receipt of a clear rental 
of five-and-twenty thousand per annum. His Lord- 
ship was in raptures ; and Stapylton Toad purchased 
an elegant villa in Surrey, and became a Member of 
Parliament. Goodburn Park, for such was the name 



of Mr. Toad's country residence, in spite of its 
double lodges, and patent park pailing, was not, to 
Mr. Toad, a very expensive purchase ; for he ' took 
it off the hands ' of a distressed client, who wanted 
an immediate supply, ' merely to convenience him,' 
and, consequently, became the purchaser at about 
half its real value. * Attorneys,' as Bustle the 
auctioneer says, ' have such opportunities ! ' 

Mr. Toad's career in the House, was as correct as 
his conduct out of it. After ten years' regular atten- 
dance, the boldest conjecturer would not have dared 
to define his political principles. It was a rule with 
Stapylton Toad, never to commit himself. Once, in- 
deed, he wrote an able pamphlet on the Corn Laws, 
which excited the dire indignation of that egregious 
body, the Political Economy Club. But Stapylton. 
cared little for their subtle confutations, and their 
loudly expressed contempt. He had obliged the 
country gentlemen of England, and ensured the 
return, at the next election, of Lord Mounteney's 
brother for the county. At this general election 
also, Stapylton Toad's purpose in entering the House 
became rather more manifest ; for it was found, to 
the surprise of the whole county, that there was 
scarcely a place in England county, city, town, or 
borough in which Mr. Stapylton Toad did not 
possess some influence. In short, it was discovered, 
that Mr. Toad had 'a first rate parliamentary business ; ' 
that nothing could be done without his co-operation, 
and every thing with it. In spite of his prosperity, 
Stapylton had the good sense never to retire from 
business, and even to refuse a baronetcy, on con- 
dition, however, that it should be offered to his son. 

Stapylton, like the rest of mankind, had his weak 
points. 'The late Marquess of Almacks was wont to 



manage him very happily, and Toad was always 
introducing that minister's opinion of his importance. 
' " My time is quite at your service, General," 
although the poor dear Marquess used to say,' " Mr. 
Staplyton Toad, your time is mine." He knew the 
business I had to get through ! ' The family por- 
traits also, in most ostentatious frames, now adorned 
the dining-room of his London mansion ; and it was 
amusing to hear the worthy M. P. dilate upon his 
likeness to his respected father. 

' You see, my Lord,' Stapylton would say, pointing 
to a dark, dingy, picture of a gentleman in a rich 
court dress, ' you see, my Lord, it is not in a very 
good light, and it certainly is a very dark picture 
by Hudson ; all Hudson's pictures were dark. But 
if I were six inches taller, and could hold the light 
just there, I think your Lordship would be astonished 
at the resemblance ; but it's a dark picture, certainly 
it's dark, all Hudson's pictures were.' 


THE Cavaliers have left the ancient hall, and the old 
pictures frown only upon empty tables. The Mar- 
quess immediately gained a seat by Mrs. Million, 
and was soon engrossed in deep converse with that 
illustrious lady. In one room, the most eminent and 
exclusive, headed by Mrs. Felix Lorraine, were now 
winding through the soothing mazes of a slow waltz, 
and now whirling, with all the rapidity of Eastern 
dervishes, to true double Wien time. In another 
saloon, the tedious tactics of quadrilles commanded 
the exertions of less civilized beings ; here, Liberal 
Snake, the celebrated Political Economist, was lecturing 


to a knot of terrified country gentlemen, and there 
a celebrated Italian improvisatore poured forth to 
an ignorant and admiring audience, all the dullness 
of his inspiration. Vivian Grey was holding an 
earnest conversation in one of the recesses with Mr. 
Stapylton Toad. He had already charmed that 
worthy, by the deep interest which he took in 
every thing relating to elections, and the House of 
Commons, and now they were hard at work on the 
Corn Laws. Although they agreed upon the main 
points, and Vivian's ideas upon this important sub- 
ject had, of course, been adopted after studying with 
intenseness Mr. Toad's ' most luminous and con- 
vincing pamphlet,' still there were a few minor 
points, on which Vivian ' was obliged to confess,' 
that ' he did not exactly see his way.' Mr. Toad 
was astonished, but argumentative, and of course, in 
due time, had made a convert of his companion ; * a 
young man,' as he afterwards remarked to Lord 
Mounteney, c in whom, he knew not which most to 
admire, the soundness of his own views, or the can- 
dour with which he treated those of others.' If you 
wish to win a man's heart, allow him to confute you. 

' I think, Mr. Grey, you must admit, that that 
definition of labour is the correct one?' said Mr. 
Toad, looking earnestly in Vivian's face, his finger 
just presuming to feel a button. 

' That exertion of mind or body, which is not the 
involuntary effect of the influence of natural sensa- 
tions,' slowly repeated Vivian, as if his whole soul 
was concentrated in each monosyllable ' Y e s, 
Mr. Toad, I do admit it.' 

' Then, my dear Sir, the rest follows of course,' 
triumphantly exclaimed the Member. ' Don't you 
see it ?' 

1 06 


* Although I admit the correctness of your defini- 
tion, Mr. Toad, I am not free to confess, that I am 
ex act ly convinced of the soundness of your con- 
clusion,' said Vivian, in a very musing mood. 

' But, my dear Sir, I am surprised that you don't 
see, that ' 

' Stop, Mr. Toad,' eagerly exclaimed Vivian, ' I see 
my error. I misconceived your meaning : you are 
right, Sir, your definition is correct.' 

' I was confident that I should convince you, Mr. 

' This conversation, I assure you, Mr. Toad, has 
been to me a peculiarly satisfactory one. Indeed, Sir, 
I have long wished to have the honour of making 
your acquaintance. When but a boy, I remember at 
my father's table, the late Marquess of Almacks ' 

' Yes, Mr. Grey.' 

' One of the ablest men, Mr. Toad, after all, that 
this country ever produced.' 

' Oh, poor dear man ! ' 

' I remember him observing to a friend of mine, 
who was at that time desirous of getting into the 
House. " Hargrave," said his lordship, " if you 
want any information upon points of practical politics" 
that was his phrase ; you remember, Mr. Toad, 
that his lordship was peculiar in his phrases ? ' 

' Oh ! yes, poor dear man ; but you were observ- 
ing, Mr. Grey ' 

4 Ay, ay ! " If you want any information," said 
his Lordship, " on such points, there is only one 
man in the kingdom whom you should consult, 
and he's one of the soundest heads I know, and 
that's Stapylton Toad, the member for Mounteney ;" 
you know you were in for Mounteney then, Mr. 



' I was, I was, and accepted the Chilterns to make 
room for Augustus Clay, Ernest Clay's brother ; 
who was so involved, that the only way to keep 
him out of the House of Correction, was to get him 
into the House of Commons. But the Marquess 
said so, eh ? ' 

'Ay, and much more, which I scarcely can re- 
member ; ' and then followed a long dissertation on 
the character of the noble statesman, and his views 
as to the agricultural interest, and the importance of 
the agricultural interest ; and then a delicate hint 
was thrown out, as to ' how delightful it would be 
to write a pamphlet together,' on this mighty agri- 
cultural interest ; and then came an eloge on the 
character of country gentlemen, and English yeomen, 
and the importance of keeping up the old English 
spirit in the peasantry, &c. &c. &c. &c. ; and then, 
when Vivian had led Mr. Toad to deliver a most 
splendid and patriotic oration on this point, he 'just 
remembered, (quite apropos to the sentiments which 
Mr. Toad had just delivered, and which he did not 
hesitate to say, " did equal honour to his head and 
heart,") that there was a little point, which, if it was 
not trespassing too much on Mr. Toad's attention, 
he would just submit to him;' and then he men- 
tioned poor John Conyer's case, although 'he felt 
convinced from Mr. Toad's well-known benevolent 
character, that it was quite unnecessary for him to 
do so, as he felt assured that it would be remedied 
immediately it fell under his cognizance, but then 
Mr. Toad had really so much business to transact, 
that perhaps these slight matters might occasionally 
not be submitted to him,' &c. &c. &c. 

What could Stapylton Toad do but, after a little 
amiable grumbling about ' bad system, and bad 



precedent,' promise everything that Vivian Grey 
required ? 

4 Mr. Vivian Grey,' said Mrs. Felix Lorraine, 'I 
cannot understand why you've been talking to Mr. 
Toad so long ; will you waltz?' 

Before Vivian could answer, a tittering, so audible 
that, considering the rank of the parties, it might 
almost be termed a loud shout, burst forth from the 
whole room. Cynthia Courtown had stolen behind 
Lord Alhambra, as he was sitting on an Ottoman, 
a la Turque, and had folded a Cachemere shawl 
round his head, with a most oriental tie. His 
Lordship, who, notwithstanding his eccentricities, 
was really a most amiable man, bore his blushing 
honours with a gracious dignity, worthy of a 
descendant of the Abencerrages. The sensation 
which this incident occasioned, favoured Vivian's 
escape from Mrs. Felix, for he had not left Mr. 
Stapylton Toad with any intention of waltzing. 

But he hardly escaped from the waltzers, ere he 
found himself in danger of being involved in a much 
more laborious duty ; for now he stumbled on the 
Political Economist, and he was earnestly requested 
by the contending theorists, to assume the office of 
moderator. Emboldened by his success, Liberal 
Snake had had the hardihood to attack a personage 
of whose character he was not utterly ignorant, but 
on whom he was extremely desirous of ' making 
an impression.' This important person was Sir 
Christopher Mowbray, who, upon the lecturer pre- 
suming to inform him ' what rent was,' * damned 
himself if he didn't know what rent was, a damned 
deal better than any damnation French smuggler.' 
I don't wish to be coarse, but Sir Christopher is a 
great man, and the sayings of great men, particularly 



when they are representative of the sentiment of 
a species, should not pass unrecorded. 

Sir Christopher Mowbray is a member for the 

County of shire ; and member for the county 

he intends to be next election, although he is in 
his seventy-ninth year, for he can still follow a fox, 
with as plucky a heart, and with as stout a voice, as 
any squire in Christendom. Sir Christopher, it 
must be confessed, is rather peculiar in his ideas. 
His grandson, Peregrine Mowbray, who is as pert a 
genius as the applause of a common-room ever yet 
spoiled, and as sublime an orator as the cheerings of 
the Union ever yet inspired, says ' the Baronet is 
not up to the nineteenth century ; ' and perhaps this 
very significant phrase will give the reader a more 
significant idea of Sir Christopher Mowbray, than a 
character as long, and as laboured, as the most 
perfect of my Lord Clarendon's. The truth is, 
the good Baronet had no idea of 'liberal principles,' 
or anything else of that school. His most peculiar 
characteristic, is a singular habit which he has 
got of styling political economists, French smugglers. 
Nobody has ever yet succeeded in extracting a reason 
from him for this singular appellation, and even if 
you angle with the most exquisite skill for the 
desired definition, Sir Christopher immediately salutes 
you with a volley of oaths, and damns French 
Wines, Bible Societies, and Mr. Huskisson. Sir 
Christopher for half a century has supported in 
the senate, with equal sedulousness and silence, the 
constitution, and the corn laws ; he is perfectly aware 
of ' the present perilous state of the country,' and 
watches with great interest all ' the plans, and plots ' 
of this enlightened age. The only thing which he 
does not exactly comprehend, is the London Uni- 


versity. This affair really puzzles the worthy 
gentleman, who could as easily fancy a county 
member not being a freeholder, as an University 
not being at Oxford or Cambridge. Indeed, 
to this hour the old gentleman believes that the 
whole business is * a damnationed hoax ; ' and if 
you tell him, that, far from the plan partaking of 
the visionary nature he conceives, there are actually 
four acres of very valuable land purchased near 
White Conduit House for the erection ; and that 
there is little apprehension, that in the course of a 
century, the wooden poles which are now stuck 
about the ground, will be fair, and flourishing, as 
the most leafy bowers of New College gardens, the 
old gentleman looks up to heaven, as if determined 
not to be taken in, and leaning back in his chair, 
sends forth a sceptical and smiling ' No ! no ! no ! 
that won't do.' 

Vivian extricated himself with as much grace as 
possible from the toils of the Economist, and indeed, 
like a skilful general, turned this little rencontre to 
account, in accomplishing the very end, for the 
attainment of which he had declined waltzing with 
Mrs. Felix Lorraine. 

' My Lord,' said Vivian, addressing the Marquess, 
who was still by the side of Mrs. Million, 'I am 
going to commit a most ungallant act ; but you 
great men must pay a tax for your dignity. I am 
going to disturb you. You are wanted by half the 
county! What could possibly induce you ever to 
allow a Political Economist to enter Chateau Desir ? 
There are, at least, three Baronets and four Squires 
in despair, writhing under the tortures of Liberal 
Snake. They have deputed me to request your 
assistance, to save them from being defeated in 


the presence of half their tenantry ; and I think, 
my Lord,' said Vivian, with a very serious voice, 
'if you could possibly contrive to interfere, it would 
be desirable. That lecturing knave never knows 
when to stop, and he's actually insulting men before 
whom, after all, he ought not dare to open his lips. 
I see that your Lordship is naturally not very much 
inclined to quit your present occupation, in order to 
act Moderator to a set of political brawlers ; but 
come, you shall not be quite sacrificed to the county, 
I will give up the waltz in which I was engaged, 
and keep your seat until your return.' 

The Marquess, who was always ' keeping up 
county influence,' was very shocked at the obstre- 
perous conduct of Liberal Snake. Indeed he had 
viewed the arrival of this worthy with no smiling 
countenance, but what could he say as he came in 
the suite of Lord Pert, who was writing, with the 
lecturer's assistance, a pretty little pamphlet on the 
Currency ? Apologising to Mrs. Million, and pro- 
mising to return as soon as possible, and lead her to 
the music room, the Marquess retired, with the 
determination of annihilating one of the stoutest 
members of the Political Ecomony Club. 

Vivian began by apologising to Mrs. Million, for 
disturbing her progress to the hall, by his sudden 
arrival before dinner ; and then for a quarter of an 
hour was poured forth the usual quantity of piquant 
anecdotes, and insidious compliments. Mrs. Million 
found Vivian's conversation no disagreeable relief to 
the pompous prosiness of the late attache, and, 
although no brilliant star dangled at his -breast, she 
could not refrain from feeling extremely pleased. 

And now, having succeeded in commanding Mrs. 
Million's attention by the general art of pleasing, 



which was for all the world, and which was of course, 
formed upon his general experience of human nature, 
Vivian began to make his advances to Mrs. 
Million's feelings, by a particular art of pleasing ; 
that is, an art which was for the particular person 
alone, whom he was at any time addressing, and 
which was founded on his particular knowledge of 
that person's character. 

' How beautiful the old hall looked to-day ! It 
is a scene which can only be met with in ancient 

* Ah ! there is nothing like old families ! ' remarked 
Mrs. Million, with all the awkward feelings of a 
nouveau riche. 

' Do you think so ? ' said Vivian ; * I once thought 
so myself, but I confess that my opinion is greatly 
changed. After all, what is noble blood ? My eye 
is now resting on a crowd of honourables, and yet, 
being among them, do we treat them in a manner 
differing in any way from that which we should 
employ to any individuals of a lower caste, who were 
equally uninteresting ? ' 

* Certainly not,' said Mrs. Million. 

' The height of the ambition of the less exalted 
ranks is to be noble, because they conceive to be 
noble, implies to be superior ; associating in their 
minds, as they always do, a pre-eminence over their 
equals. But, to be noble, among nobles, where is 
the pre-eminence ? ' 

' Where indeed ? ' said Mrs. Million ; and she 
thought of herself, sitting the most considered per- 
sonage in this grand castle, and yet with sufficiently 
base blood flowing in her veins. 

' And thus, in the highest circles,' continued Vivian, 
' a man is of course not valued because he is a 

H 113 


Marquess, or a Duke ; but because he is a great 
warrior, or a great statesman, or very fashionable, or 
very witty. In all classes but the highest, a peer, 
however unbefriended by nature or by fortune, be- 
comes a man of a certain rate of consequence, but to 
be a person of consequence in the highest class, 
requires something else, except high blood.' 

c I quite agree with you in your sentiments, Mr. 
Grey. Now what character, or what situation in life, 
would you choose, if you had the power of making 
your choice ? ' 

* That is really a most metaphysical question. As 
is the custom of all young men, I have sometimes, 
in my reveries, imagined what I conceived to be a 
lot of pure happiness : and yet Mrs. Million will 
perhaps be astonished that I was neither to be 
nobly born, nor to acquire nobility, that I was not to 
be a literary man, nor a warrior, nor indeed any 
profession, nor a merchant, nor even a professional 

* Oh ! love in a cottage, I suppose ; ' interrupted 
Mrs. Million. 

' Neither love in a cottage, nor science in a cell.' 

* Oh ! pray tell me what it is.' 

' What it is ? Oh ! Lord Mayor of London, I 
suppose ; that is the only situation which answers to 
my oracular description.' 

* Oh ! then you've been joking all this time ! ' 

' Oh ! no ; not at all. Come then, let us imagine 
this perfect lot. In the first place, I would be born 
in the middling classes of society, or even lower, 
because I would wish my character to be impartially 
developed. I would be born to no hereditary pre- 
judices, nor hereditary passions. My course in life 
should not be carved out by the example of a grand- 



father, nor my ideas modelled to a preconceived 
system of family perfection. Do you like my first 
principle, Mrs. Million ? ' 

' I must hear every thing before I give an opinion.' 

' When, therefore, my mind was formed, I would 
wish to become the proprietor of a princely fortune.' 

* Yes ! ' eagerly exclaimed Mrs. Million. 

' And now would come the moral singularity of 
my fate. If I had gained this fortune by commerce, 
or in any other similar mode, my disposition, before 
the creation of this fortune, would naturally be 
formed, and be permanently developed; and my 
mind would be similarly affected, had I succeeded to 
some ducal father ; for I should then, in all proba- 
bility, have inherited some family line of conduct, 
both moral and political ; but under the circumstances 
I have imagined, the result would be far different. 
I should then be in the singular situation of possess- 
ing, at the same time, unbounded wealth, and the 
whole powers and natural feelings of my mind, 
unoppressed and unshackled. Oh ! how splendid 
would be my career ! I would not allow the change 
in my condition to exercise any influence on my 
natural disposition. I would experience the same 
passions, and be subject to the same feelings, only 
they should be exercised, and influential, in a wider 
sphere. Then would be seen the influence of great 
wealth, directed by a disposition similar to that of 
the generality of men, inasmuch as it had been 
formed like that of the generality of men ; and con- 
sequently, one much better acquainted with their 
feelings, their habits, and their wishes. Such a lot 
would indeed be princely ! Such a lot would infal- 
libly ensure the affection, and respect, of the great 
majority of mankind ; and, supported by them, what 



should I care, if I were misunderstood by a few 
fools, and abused by a few knaves ? ' 

Here came the Marquess to lead the lady to the 
concert. As she quitted her seat, a smile, beaming 
with graciousness, rewarded her youthful companion. 
' Ah ! ' thought Mrs. Million ; ' I go to the concert, 
but leave sweeter music than can possibly meet me 
there. What is the magic of these words ? It is 
not flattery ; such is not the language of Miss 
Gusset. It is not a refacimento of compliments : such 
is not the style with which I am saluted by the Duke 
of Doze, and the Earl of Leatherdale ! Apparently 
I have heard a young philosopher delivering his 
sentiments upon an abstract point in human life ; and 
yet have I not listened to the most brilliant apology 
for my own character, and the most triumphant 
defence of my own conduct. Of course it was 
unintentional, and yet how agreeable to be uninten- 
tionally defended!' So mused Mrs. Million, and 
she made a thousand vows, not to let a day pass 
over, without obtaining a pledge from Vivian Grey, 
to visit her on their return to the metropolis. 

Vivian remained in his seat for some time after the 
departure of his companion. * On my honour, I 
have half a mind to desert my embryo faction, and 
number myself in her gorgeous retinue. Let me 
see what part should I act ? her secretary, or her 
toad-eater or her physician, or her cook ? or shall I 
be her page ? Methinks I should make a pretty 
page, and hand a chased goblet as gracefully, as any 
monkey that ever bent his knee in a Lady's chamber. 
Well ! at any rate, there is this chance to be kept 
back, as the gambler does his last trump, or the 
cunning fencer his last ruse' 

He rose to offer his arm to some stray fair one ; 



for crowds were now hurrying to pine apples and 
lobster salads : that is to say, supper was ready in 


In a moment Vivian's arm was locked in that of 
Mrs. Felix Lorraine, 

* Oh, Mr. Grey, I have got a much better ghost 
story than even that of the Leyden Professor for 
you ; but I'm so wearied with waltzing, that I must 
tell it you to-morrow. How came you to be so late 
this morning ? Have you been paying many calls to- 
day ? I quite missed you at dinner. Do you think 
Ernest Clay handsome ? I daren't repeat what Lady 
Scrope said of you! You're an admirer of Lady 
Julia Knighton, I believe ? I don't much like this 
plan of supping in the Long Gallery it's a favourite 
locale of mine, and I have no idea of my private 
promenade being invaded with the uninteresting pre- 
sence of trifles and Italian creams. Have you been 
telling Mrs. Million that she was very witty ? ' asked 
Vivian's companion, with a very significant look. 



SWEET reader! you know what a Toadey is? That 
agreeable animal which you meet every day in civi- 
lized society. But perhaps you have not speculated 
very curiously upon this interesting race. Tant pis ! 
for you cannot live many lustres, without finding it 
of some service to be a little acquainted with their 

The world in general is under a mistake as to the 
nature of these vermin. They are by no means 
characterised by that similarity of disposition, for 



which your common observer gives them credit. 
There are Toade'ys of all possible natures. 

There is your Common-place Toadey, who merely 
echoes its feeder's common-place observations. There 
is your Playing-up Toadey, who, unconscious to its 
feeder, is always playing up to its feeder's weaknesses 
and, as the taste of that feeder varies, accordingly 
provides its cates and confitures. A little bit of 
scandal for a dashing widow, or a pious little hymn 
for a sainted one ; the secret history of a newly 
discovered gas for a May Fair feeder, and an 
interesting anecdote about a Newgate bobcap, or a 
Penitentiary apron, for a charitable one. Then there 
is your Drawing-out Toadey, who omits no oppor- 
tunity of giving you a chance of being victorious, in 
an argument where there is no contest, and a dispute 
where there is no difference ; and then there is ; 
but I detest essay writing, so I introduce you at once 
to a party of these vermin. If you wish to enjoy a 
curious sight, you must watch the Toadeys, when 
they are unembarassed by the almost perpetual pre- 
sence of their breeders when they are animated by 
* the spirit of freedom ' ; when, like Curran's Negro, 
the chain bursts by the impulse of their swelling 
veins. The great singularity is the struggle between 
their natural and their acquired feelings : the eager 
opportunity which they seize of revenging their 
voluntary bondage, by their secret taunts on their 
adopted task-masters ; and the servility, which they 
habitually mix up, even with their scandal. Like 
veritable Grimalkins, they fawn upon their victims 
previous to the festival compliment them upon the 
length of their whiskers, and the delicacy of their 
limbs, prior to excoriating them, and dwelling on the 
flavour of their crashed bones. Oh ! 'tis a beautiful 



scene, and ten thousand times more piquant than the 
humours of a Servant's Hall, or the most grotesque 
and glorious moments of high life below stairs. 

' Dear Miss Graves,' said Miss Gusset, ' you can't 
imagine how terrified I was at that horrible green 
parrot flying upon my head ! I declare it pulled out 
three locks of hair.' 

' Horrible green parrot, my dear madam ! why it 
was sent to my Lady by Prince Xtmnprqtosklw, and 
never shall I forget the agitation we were in about 
that parrot. I thought it would never have got to 
the Chateau, for the Prince could only send his 
carriage with it as far as Toadcaster ; luckily my 
Lady's youngest brother, who was staying at Desir, 
happened to get drowned at the time, and so 
Davenport, very clever of him ! sent her on in my 
Lord Dormer's hearse.' 

* In the hearse ! Good heavens, Miss Graves ! 
How could you think of green parrots at such an 
awful moment ! I should have been in fits for three 
days. Eh ! Dr. Sly ? ' 

' Certainly you would, Madam your nerves are 
very delicate.' 

4 Well ! I, for my part, never could see much use 
in giving up to one's feelings. It's all very well for 
commoners,' rather rudely exclaimed the Marchioness' 
Toadey l but we did not choose to expose ourselves 
to the servants, when the old General died this year. 
Every thing went on as usual. Her Ladyship 
attended Almacks ; my Lord took his seat in the 
House ; and I looked in at Lady Doubtful's ; where 
we don't visit, but where the Marchioness wishes to 
be civil.' 

' Oh ! we don't visit Lady Doubtful either,' replied 
Miss Gusset : she hadn't a card for our fete champetre. 



Oh ! I was so sorry you were not in town. It was 
so delightful ! 

4 Oh ! do tell me who was there. I quite long to 
know all about it. I saw an account of it in the 
papers. Every thing seemed to go off so well. Do 
tell me who was there ? ' 

* Oh ! there was plenty of Royalty at the head of 
the list. Really I can't go into particulars, but every 
body was there who is any body eh ! Dr. Sly ? ' 

* Certainly, Madam. The pines were most admir- 
able ; there are few people for whom I entertain a 
higher esteem than Mr. Gunter.' 

' The Marchioness seems very fond of her dog and 
parrot, Miss Graves but she's a sweet woman ! ' 

* Oh, a dear, amiable, creature ! but I can't think 
how she can bear the eternal screaming of that noisy 

' Nor I, indeed. Well, thank goodness, Mrs. 
Million has no pets eh ! Dr. Sly ? ' 

' Certainly I'm clearly of opinion that it can't be 
wholesome to have so many animals about a house. 
Besides which, I have noticed that the Marchioness 
always selects the nicest morsels for that little poodle ; 
and I'm also clearly of opinion, Miss Graves, that the 
fit it had the other day arose from repletion.' 

' Oh ! I've no doubt of it in the world. She 
consumes three pounds of arrow-root weekly, and 
two pounds of the finest loaf sugar, which I have the 
trouble of grating every Monday morning Mrs. 
Million appears to be a most amiable woman, Miss 
Gusset ? ' 

' Oh ! quite perfection .so charitable, so intel- 
lectual, such a soul ! it's a pity though her manner 
is so abrupt, she really does not appear to advantage 
sometimes eh ! Dr. Sly ? ' 

1 20 


The Toadey's Toadey bowed assent as usual. 
' Well,' rejoined Miss Graves, ' that's rather a fault 
of the dear Marchioness, a little want of considera- 
tion for another's feelings, but she means nothing.' 

' Oh, no ! nor Mrs. Million, dear creature ! she 
means nothing ; though, I dare say, not knowing her 
so well as we do eh ! Dr. Sly ? you were a little 
surprised at the way in which she spoke to me at 

' All people have their oddities, Miss Gusset. I'm 
sure the Marchioness is not aware how she tries my 
patience about that little wretch Julie ; I had to rub 
her with warm flannels for an hour and a-half, before 
the fire this morning ; that's that Vivian Grey's 

' Who is this Mr. Grey, Miss Graves ? ' 

' Who, indeed ! Some young man the Marquess 
has picked up, and who comes lecturing here about 
poodles, and parrots, and thinking himself quite Lord 
Paramount, I assure you ; I'm surprised that the 
Marchioness, who is a most sensible woman, can 
patronize such conduct a moment ; but whenever she 
begins to see through him, the young gentleman has 
always got a story about a bracelet, or a bandeau, and 
quite turns her head.' 

' Very disagreeable, I'm sure eh ! Dr. Sly ? ' 

' Some people are very easily managed. By the 
bye, Miss Gusset, who could have advised Mrs. 
Million to wear crimson ? So large as she is, it does 
not at all suit her : I suppose it's a favourite colour.' 

' Dear Miss Graves, you're always so insinuating. 
What can Miss Graves mean eh ! Dr. Sly ? ' 

A Lord Burleigh shake of the head. 

' Cynthia Courtown seems as lively as ever,' said 
Miss Gusset. 



' Yes, lively enough, but I wish her manner was 
less brusque? 

' Brusque, indeed ! you may well say so : she nearly 
pushed me down in the hall ; and when I looked as 
if I thought she might have given me a little more 
room, she tossed her head and said, ' Beg pardon, 
never saw you ! ' 

' I wonder what Lord Alhambra sees in that girl ? ' 

* Oh ! those forward Misses always take the men 
-eh! Dr. Sly?' 

' Well,' said Miss Graves, * I've no notion that it 
will come to any thing. I am sure, I, for one, hope 
not,' added she with all a Toadey's venom. 

* The Marquess seems to keep a remarkably good 
table,' said the Physician. ' There was a haunch to- 
day, which I really think was the finest haunch I 
ever met with : but that little move at dinner, it 
was, to say the least, very ill-timed.' 

' Yes, that was Vivian Grey again,' said Miss 
Graves, very indignantly. 

' So, you've got the Beaconsfields here, Miss Graves: 
nice, unaffected, quiet, people ? ' 

'Yes! very quiet.' 'As you say, Miss Graves, 
very quiet, but a little heavy.' 

' Yes, heavy enough.' 

' If you had but seen the quantity or pine-apples 
that boy Dormer Stanhope devoured at our Fete 
Champetre ! but I've the comfort of knowing that 
they made him very ill eh ! Dr. Sly ?' 

' Oh ! he learned that from his uncle,' said Miss 
Graves ' it's quite disgusting to see how that Vivian 
Grey encourages him.' 

' What an elegant, accomplished, woman Mrs. 
Felix Lorraine seems to be, Miss Graves ! I sup- 
pose the Marchioness is very fond of her ?' 


' Oh, yes the Marchioness is so good-natured, 
that I dare say she thinks very well of Mrs. Felix 
Lorraine. She thinks well of every one but I 
believe Mrs. Felix is rather a greater favourite with 
the Marquess.'' 

' O h ! ' drawled out Miss Gusset with a very 

significant tone. ' I suppose she's one of your play- 
ing-up ladies. I think you told me she was only on 
a visit here.' 

' A pretty long visit though, for a sister-in-law if 
sister-in-law she be. As I was saying to the Mar- 
chioness the other day, when Mrs. Felix offended 
her so violently by trampling on dear little Julie if 
it came into a Court of Justice, I should like to see 
the proof that's all. At any rate, it's pretty evident 
that Mr. Lorraine has had enough of his bargain.' 

' Quite evident, I think eh ! Dr. Sly ? Those 
German women never make good English wives,' 
continued Miss Gusset, with all a Toadey's 

' Talking of wives, didn't you think Lady Julia 
spoke very strangely of Sir Peter after dinner to-day ? 
I hate that Lady Julia, if it's only for petting Vivian 
Grey so. She positively called him " little love " 
very flighty, and sickening.' 

' Yes, indeed it is quite enough to make one sick 
-eh! Dr. Sly?' 

The Doctor shook his head mournfully, remem- 
bering the haunch. 

' They say Ernest Clay's in sad difficulties, Miss 

* Well, I always expected his dash would end in 
that. Those wild harum-scarum men are monstrous 
disagreeable. I like a person of some reflection eh ! 
Dr. Sly?' 



Before the doctor could bow his usual assent, there 
entered a pretty little page, very daintily attired in a 
fancy dress of green and silver. Twirling his richly 
chased dirk with one tiny white hand, and at the 
same time playing with a pet curl, which was most 
picturesquely flowing over his forehead, he advanced 
with ambling gait to Miss Gusset, and, in a mincing 
voice, and courtly phrase, summoned her to the im- 
perial presence. 

The lady's features immediately assumed the ex- 
pression which befitted the approaching interview, 
and in a moment Miss Graves and the physician were 
left alone. 

4 Very amiable young woman, Miss Gusset appears 
to be, Dr. Sly ?' 

' Oh ! the most amiable being in the world I owe 
her the greatest obligations.' 

' So gentle in her manners.' 

' O yes, so gentle.' 

* So considerate for every body.' 

* Oh, yes ! so considerate,' echoed the Aberdeen 

' I am afraid though, she must sometimes meet with 
people who don't exactly understand her character : 
such extraordinary consideration for others is some- 
times liable to misconstruction.' 

' Very sensibly remarked, Miss Graves ; I am sure 
Miss Gusset means well ; and that kind of thing is 
all very admirable in its way but but 

'But what, Dr. Sly?' 

' Why, I was merely going to hazard an observa- 
tion, that according to my feelings that is, to my 
own peculiar view of the case, I should prefer some 
people thinking more about their own business, and, 
and but I mean nothing.' 



' Oh, no, of course not, Dr. Sly ; you know we 
always except our own immediate friends at least, 
when we can be sure they are our friends ; but as 
you were saying, or going to say, those persons who 
are so very anxious about other people's affairs, are 
not always the most agreeable persons in the world 
to live with. It certainly did strike me, that that in- 
terference of Miss Gusset's about Julie to-day, was, 
to say the least, very odd.' 

* Oh, my dear madam ! when you know her as well 
as I do, you'll see she's always ready to put in a word.' 

' Well ! do you know, Dr. Sly, between ourselves, 
that was exactly my impression ; and she is then very, 

very 1 don't exactly mean to say meddling, or 

inquisitive ; but but you understand me, Dr. Sly ?' 

' Perfectly ; and if I were to speak my mind, which 
I don't hesitate to do in confidence to you, Miss 
Graves, I really should say, that she's the most 
jealous, irritable, malicious, meddling, and at the 
same time fawning, disposition, that I ever met with 
in the whole course of my life and I speak from 

' Well, do you know, Dr. Sly, from all I've seen, 
that was exactly my impression ; therefore I have 
been particularly careful not to commit myself to 
such a person.' 

' Ah ! Miss Graves ! if all ladies were like you ! 
O h!' 

' My dear Dr. Sly ! ' 



VIVIAN had duly acquainted the Marquess with the 
successful progress of his negotiations with their 


intended partizans, and his Lordship himself had 
conversed with them singly on the important subject. 
It was thought proper, however, in this stage of the 
proceedings, that the parties interested should meet 
together, and so the two Lords, and Sir Berdmore, 
and Vivian, were invited to dine with the Marquess 
alone, and in his library. 

There was abundance of dumb waiters, and other 
inventions, by which the ease of the guests might be 
consulted, without risking even their secret looks to 
the gaze of liveried menials. The Marquess's gentle- 
man sat in an antichamber, in case human aid might 
be necessary, and every thing, as his Lordship averred, 
was ' on the same system as the Cabinet Dinners.' 

In the ancient kingdom of England, it hath ever 
been the custom to dine previously to transacting 
business. This habit is one of those few which are 
not contingent upon the mutable fancies of fashion, 
and at this day we see Cabinet Dinners, and Vestry 
Dinners, alike proving the correctness of my asser- 
tion. Whether the custom really expedites the 
completion, or the general progress of the business 
which gives rise to it, is a grave question, which I 
do not feel qualified to decide. Certain it is, that 
very often, after the dinner , an appointment is made 
for the transaction of the business on the following 
morning : at the same time it must be remembered, 
that had it not been for the opportunity which the 
banquet afforded of developing the convivial qualities 
of the guests, and drawing out, by the assistance of 
generous wine, their most kindly sentiments, and 
most engaging feelings, it is very probable that the 
appointment for the transaction of the business 
would never have been made at all. 

There certainly was every appearance that ' the 



great business,' as the Marquess styled it, would not 
be very much advanced by the cabinet dinner at 
Chateau Desir. For, in the first place, the table was 
laden ' with every delicacy of the season,' and really 
when a man is either going to talk sense, fight a 
duel, or make his will, nothing should be seen at 
dinner, save rump steaks, and the lightest Bourdeaux. 
And, in the second place, it must be candidly con- 
fessed, that when it came to the point of all the 
parties interested meeting, the Marquess's courage 
somewhat misgave him. Not that any particular 
reason occurred to him, which would have induced 
him to yield one jot of the theory of his sentiments, 
but the putting them in practice rather made him 
nervous. In short, he was as convinced as ever, that 
he was an ill used man of first rate talent, but then 
he remembered his agreeable sinecure, and his 
dignified office, and he might not succeed. c The 
thought did not please.' 

But here they were all assembled ; receding was 
impossible ; and so the Marquess dashed off" a 
tumbler of Burgundy, and felt more courageous. 
His Lordship's conduct did not escape the hawk 
eye of one of his guests, and Vivian Grey was rather 
annoyed at seeing the Marquess's glass so frequently 
refilled. In fact the Marquess was drinking deep, 
and deep drinking was neither my Lord Carabas' 
weak, nor strong point, for he was neither habitually 
a toper, nor one who bore wine's sweet influence like 
a docile subject. 

The venison was so prime, that not one word 
relative to the subject of their meeting was broached 
during the whole dinner ; and Lord Beaconsfield, 
more than once, thought to himself, that had he ever 
been aware that business was so agreeable, he too 



would have been a statesman. But the haunch at 
last vanished, and the speech from the throne 

' My Lords and Gentleman,' began the Marquess, 
' although I have myself taken the opportunity of 
communicating to you singly my thoughts upon a 
certain subject, and although, if I am righty in- 
formed, my excellent young friend has communicated 
to you more fully upon that subject ; yet, my Lords 
and Gentlemen, I beg to remark, that this is the 
first time, that we have collectively assembled to 
consult on the possibility of certain views, upon the 
propriety of their nature, and the expediency of their 
adoption.' Here the bottle passed, and the Marquess 
took a bumper. l My Lords and Gentlemen, when 
I take into consideration the nature of the various 
interests, of which the body politic of this great 
empire is regulated ; (Lord Courtown, the bottle 
stops with you) when I observe, I repeat, this, I 
naturally ask myself what right, what claims, what, 
what, what, I repeat, what right, these governing 
interests have to the influence which they possess ? 
(Vivian, my boy, you'll find Champagne on the 
waiter behind you.) Yes, gentlemen, it is in this 
temper (the corkscrew's by Sir Berdmore,) it is, I 
repeat, in this temper, and actuated by these views, 
that we meet together this day. Gentlemen, to 
make the matter short, it is clear to me that we have 
all been under a mistake; that my Lord Courtown, 
and my Lord Beaconsfield, and Sir Berdmore Scrope, 
and my humble self, are not doing our duty to our 
country, in not taking the management of its affairs 
into our own hands ! Mr. Vivian Grey, a gentle- 
man with whom you are all acquainted, Mr. Vivian 
Grey is younger than myself, or you, my Lord Cour- 



town, or you, my Lord Beaconsfield, or even you, I 
believe, Sir Berdmore. Mr. Vivian Grey has con- 
sequently better lungs than any of us, and he will, I 
make no doubt, do, what I would, if I were of his 
age, explain the whole business to us all ; and now 
my Lords, and Gentlemen, let us have a glass of 

A great deal of ' desultory conversation,' as the 
reporters style it, relative to the great topic of debate, 
now occurred ; and, as the subject was somewhat 
dry, the Carabas Champagne suffered considerably. 
When the brains of the party were tolerably elevated, 
Vivian addressed them. The tenor of his oration 
may be imagined. He developed the new political 
principles, demonstrated the mistake under the bane- 
ful influence of which they had so long suffered, 
promised them place, and power, and patronage, and 
personal consideration, if they would only act on the 
principles which he recommended, in the most flow- 
ing language, and the most melodious voice, in which 
the glories of ambition were ever yet chaunted. 
There was a buzz of admiration when the flattering 
music ceased ; the Marquess smiled triumphantly, 
as if to say, ' Didn't I tell you he was a monstrous 
clever fellow ?' and the whole business seemed settled. 
Lord Courtown gave in a bumper, ' Mr. Vivian Grey, 
and success to his maiden speech ; ' and Vivian dashed 
off a tumbler of Champagne to ' the New Union, and 
certainly the whole party were in extreme good 
spirits. At last, Sir Berdmore, the coolest of them 
all, raised his voice : ' He quite agreed with Mr. 
Grey in the principles which he had developed ; and, 
for his own part, he was free to confess, that he 
had the most perfect confidence in that gentle- 
man's very brilliant abilities, and augured from 
i 129 


their exertion the most complete and triumphant 
success. At the same time, he felt it his duty 
to remark to their Lordships, and also to that 
gentleman, that the House of Commons was a new 
scene to him ; and he put it, whether they were quite 
convinced that they were sufficiently strong, as re- 
garded talent in that assembly. He could not take 
it upon himself to offer to become the leader of the 
party. Mr. Grey might be capable of undertaking 
that charge, but still, it must be remembered, that, 
in that assembly, he was, as yet, untried. He made 
no apology to Mr. Grey for speaking his mind so 
freely ; he was sure that his motives could not be 
misinterpreted. If their Lordships, on the whole, 
were of opinion that this charge should be entrusted 
to him, he, Sir Berdmore, having the greatest confi- 
dence in Mr. Grey's abilities, would certainly support 
him to the utmost.' 

' He can do any thing,' shouted the Marquess ; 
who was now quite tipsy. 

* He's a surprising clever man ! ' said Lord Cour- 

* He's a surprising clever man ! ' echoed Lord 

* Stop, my Lords,' burst forth Vivian, ' your good 
opinion deserves my gratitude, but these important 
matters do indeed require a moment's consideration. 
I trust that Sir Berdmore Scrope does not imagine 
that I am the vain idiot, to be offended at his most 
excellent remarks, even for a moment. Are we not 
met here for the common good and to consult for 
the success of the common cause ? Whatever my 
talents are, they are at your service and, in your 
service, will I venture any thing; but surely, my 
Lords, you will not unnecessarily entrust this great 



business to a raw hand ! I need only aver, that I am 
ready to follow any leader, who can play his great 
part in a becoming manner.' 

* Noble ! ' halloed the Marquess ; who was now 
quite drunk. 

But who was the leader to be ? Sir Berdmore 
frankly confessed that he had none to propose ; and 
the Viscount and the Baron were quite silent. 

* Gentlemen ! ' bawled the Marquess, and his eye 
danced in his beaming face, ' Gentlemen ! there is a 
man, who could do our bidding.' The eyes of every 
guest were fixed on the haranguing host. 

' Gentlemen, fill your glasses I give you our 
leader Mr. Frederick Cleveland.' 

* Cleveland ! ' was the universal shout. A glass of 
claret fell from Lord Courtown's hand ; Lord 
Beaconsfield stopped as he was about to fill his glass, 
and stood gaping at the Marquess, with the decanter 
in his hand ; and Sir Berdmore stared on the table, 
as men do when something unexpected, and astound- 
ing, has occurred at dinner, which seems past all their 

' Cleveland ! ' shouted the guests. 

* I should as soon have expected you to have given 
us Lucifer ! ' said Lord Courtown. 

* Or the present Secretary ! ' said Lord Beacons- 

* Or yourself,' said Sir Berdmore Scrope. 

'And does any one mean to insinuate that Frederick 
Cleveland is not capable of driving out every minister, 
that has ever existed since the days of the deluge ?' 
demanded the Marquess, with a fierce air. 

* We do not deny Mr. Cleveland's powers, my 
Lord ; we only humbly beg to suggest that it appears 
to us, that, of all the persons in the world, the man 


with whom Mr. Cleveland would be least inclined to 
coalesce, would be the Marquess of Carabas.' 

In spite of the Champagne, the Marquess looked 

* Gentlemen/ said Vivian, ' do not despair ; it's 
enough for me to know that there is a man who 
is capable of doing our work. Be he animate man, 
or incarnate fiend, provided he can be found within 
this realm, I pledge myself that, within ten days, he 
is drinking my noble friend's health at this very 

The Marquess halloed, ' Bravo ! ' the rest laughed, 
and rose in confusion ; Lord Beaconsfield fell over a 
chair, and, extricating himself with admirable agility, 
got entangled with a dumb-waiter, which came 
tumbling down with a fearful crash of plates, bottles, 
knives, and decanters. The pledge was, however, 
accepted ; and the Marquess and Vivian were left 
alone. The worthy Peer, though terrifically tipsy, 
seemed quite overcome by Vivian's offer and engage- 

* Vivian, my boy ! you don't know what you've 
done you don't, indeed take care of yourself, my 
boy, you're going to call on the Devil ; you are, 
indeed you're going to leave your card at the 
Devil's. Didn't you hear what Lord Beaconsfield, 
a very worthy gentleman, but, between ourselves, a 
damned fool that's entre nous, though, entre nous I 
say, didn't you hear Lord Beaconsfield no, was it 
Lord Beaconsfield r No, no, your memory, Vivian, 's 
very bad ; it was Lord Courtown : didn't you hear 
him say that Frederick Cleveland was Lucifer. He 
is Lucifer ; he is, upon my honor how shocking ! 
What times we live in ! To think of you, Vivian 
Grey ; you, a respectable young man, with a worthy 



and respectable father ; to think of you leaving your 

card at the Devil's ! Oh ! shocking ! shocking ! 

But never mind, my dear fellow ! never mind, don't 
lose heart. I'll tell you what to do talk to him, and 
by Jove, if he doesn't make me an apology, I'm not 
a Cabinet Minister. Good night, my dear fellow ; 
he's sure to make an apology ; don't be frightened ; 
remember what I say, talk to him, talk talk. 1 So 
saying, the worthy Marquess reeled and retired. 

* What have I done ? ' thought Vivian ; * I'm sure 
that Lucifer may know, for I do not. This Cleve- 
land is, I suppose, after all but a man. I saw the 
feeble fools were wavering ; and to save all, made 
a leap in the dark. Well ! is my skull cracked ? 
Nous verrons. How hot, either this room or my 
blood is ! Come, for some fresh air ; (he opened the 
library window) how fresh and soft it is ! Just the 
night for the balcony. Hah ! music ! I cannot mis- 
take that voice. Singular woman ! I'll just walk 
on, till I'm beneath her window.' 

Vivian accordingly proceeded along the balcony, 
which extended down one whole side of the Chateau. 
While he was looking at the moon he stumbled 
against some one. It was Colonel Delmington. He 
apologised to the militaire for treading on his toes, 
and ' wondered how the devil he got there ! ' 




FREDERICK CLEVELAND was educated at Eton, and at 
Cambridge ; and after having proved, both at the 
school and the University, that he possessed talents 
of the first order, he had the courage, in order to 
perfect them, to immure himself for three years in a 
German University. It was impossible, therefore, 
for two minds to have been cultivated on more con- 
trary systems, than those of Frederick Cleveland and 
Vivian Grey. The systems on which they had been 
educated were not, however, more discordant than 
the respective tempers of the pupils. With that of 
Vivian Grey the reader is now somewhat acquainted. 
It has been shown that he was one precociously con- 
vinced of the necessity of managing mankind by 
studying their tempers and humouring their weak- 
nesses. Cleveland turned from the Book of Nature 
with contempt ; and although his was a mind of 
extraordinary acuteness, he was, at three-and-thirty, 
as ignorant of the workings of the human heart, as 
when, in the innocence of boyhood, he first reached 
Eton. The inaptitude of his nature to consult the 
feelings, or adopt the sentiments of others, was visible 
in his slightest actions. He was the only man who 


ever passed three years in Germany, and in a German 
University, who had never yielded to the magic influ- 
ence of a Meerschaum ; and the same inflexibility of 
character which prevented him from smoking in 
Germany, attracted in Italy the loud contempt of 
those accomplished creatures the Anglo-Italians. 
The Duchess of Derwentwater, who saluted with 
equal naivete a Cardinal, or a Captain of banditti, 
was once almost determined to exclude Mr. Cleve- 
land from her conversazione because he looked so 
much like an Englishman ; and at Florence he was 
still more unpopular ; for he abused Velluti, and pas- 
quinaded his patroness. 

Although possessed of no fortune, from the re- 
spectability of his connexions, and the reputation of 
his abilities, he entered Parliament at an early age. 
His success was eminent. It was at this period that 
he formed a great friendship with the present Mar- 
quess of Carabas, many years his senior, and then 
Under Secretary of State. His exertions for the 
party to which Mr. Under Secretary Lorraine be- 
longed were unremitting ; and it was mainly through 
their influence that a great promotion took place in 
the official appointments of the party. When the 
hour of reward came, Mr. Lorraine and his friends 
unfortunately forgot their youthful champion. He 
remonstrated, and they smiled : he reminded them of 
private friendship, and they answered him with poli- 
tical expediency. Mr. Cleveland went down to the 
House, and attacked his old comates in a spirit of 
unexampled bitterness. He examined in review the 
various members of the party that had deserted him. 
They trembled on their seats, while they writhed 
beneath the keenness of his satire : but when the 
orator came to Mr. President Lorraine, he flourished 


the tomahawk on high, like a wild Indian chieftain ; 
and the attack was so awfully severe, so overpower- 
ing, so annihilating, that even this hackneyed and 
hardened official trembled, turned pale, and quitted 
the house. Cleveland's triumph was splendid, but it 
was only for a night. Disgusted with mankind, he 
scouted the thousand offers of political connections 
which crowded upon him ; and, having succeeded in 
making an arrangement with his creditors, he accepted 
the Chiltern Hundreds. 

By the interest of his friends, he procured a judi- 
cial situation of sufficient emolument, but of local 
duty ; and to fulfil this duty he was obliged to reside 
in North Wales. The locality, indeed, suited him 
well, for he was sick of the world at nine-and-twenty; 
and, carrying his beautiful and newly-married wife 
from the world, which, without him she could not 
love, Mr Cleveland enjoyed all the luxuries of a 
cottage ornee, in the most romantic part of the Prin- 
cipality. Here were born unto him a son and 
daughter, beautiful children, upon whom the father 
lavished all the affection which Nature had intended 
for the world. 

Four years had Cleveland now passed in his soli- 
tude, it must not be concealed, an unhappy man. 
A thousand times, during the first year of his retire- 
ment, he cursed the moment of excitation which had 
banished him from the world ; for he found himself 
without resources, and restless as a curbed courser. 
Like many men who are born to be orators like 
Curran, and like Fox, Cleveland was not blessed, or 
cursed, with the faculty of composition ; and, indeed, 
had his pen been that of a ready writer, pique would 
have prevented him from delighting or instructing 
a world, whose nature he endeavoured to persuade 



himself was base, and whose applause ought conse- 
quently to be valueless. In the second year he 
endeavoured to while away his time, by interesting 
himself in those pursuits which Nature has kindly 
provided for country gentlemen. Farming kept him 
alive six months ; but, at length, his was the prize 
ox ; and, having gained a cup, he got wearied of 
kine too prime for eating ; wheat, too fine for the 
composition of the staff of life ; and ploughs so in- 
geniously contrived, that the very ingenuity prevented 
them from being useful. Cleveland was now seen 
wandering over the moors, and mountains, with a 
gun over his shoulder, and a couple of pointers at 
his heels ; but ennui returned in spite of his patent 
percussion ; and so, at length, tired of being a sports- 
man, he almost became what he had fancied himself 
in an hour of passion, a misanthrope. 

With the aid of soda-water and Mr. Sadler, 
Vivian had succeeded, the morning after the Cabinet- 
dinner, in getting the Marquess up at a tolerably 
early hour; and, after having been closeted with his 
Lordship for a considerable time, he left Chateau 

Vivian travelled night and day, until he stopped 
at KENRICH LODGE. Such was the correct style of 
Mr. Cleveland's abode. What was he to do now ? 
After some deliberation, he despatched a note to 
Mr. Cleveland, informing him, ' that he (Mr. Grey) 
was the bearer, from England, to Mr. Cleveland, of 
a " communication of importance." Under the cir- 
cumstances of the case, he observed that he had 
declined bringing any letters of introduction. He 
was quite aware, therefore, that he should have no 
right to complain, if he had to travel back three 
hundred miles without having the honour of an 


interview ; but he trusted that this necessary breach 
of etiquette would be overlooked.' 

The note produced the desired effect; and an 
appointment was made for Mr. Grey to call at 
Kenrich Lodge on the following morning. 

Vivian, as he entered the room, took a rapid 
glance at the master of Kenrich Lodge. Mr. Cleve- 
land was a tall and elegantly formed man, with a face 
which might have been a model for manly beauty. 
He came forward to receive Vivian, with a New- 
foundland dog on one side, and a large black grey- 
hound on the other ; and the two animals, after 
having elaborately examined the stranger, divided 
between them the luxuries of the rug. The recep- 
tion which Mr. Cleveland gave our hero, was cold 
and constrained in the extreme, but it did not appear 
to be purposely uncivil ; and Vivian flattered himself 
that his manner was not unusually stiff. 

' I don't know whether I have the honour of 

addressing the son of the author of ? ' said Mr. 

Cleveland, with a frowning countenance, which was 
intended to be courteous. 

' I have the honour of being the son of Mr. Grey.' 

* Your father, Sir, is a most amiable, and able man. 
I had the pleasure of his acquaintance when I was in 
London many years ago, at a time when Mr. Vivian 
Grey was not entrusted, 1 rather imagine, with 
missions " of importance" Although Mr. Cleveland 
smiled when he said this, his smile was anything but 
a gracious one. The subdued satire of his keen eye 
burst out for an instant, and he looked as if he would 
have said, ' Who is this younker who is trespassing 
upon my retirement ? ' 

Vivian had, unbidden, seated himself by the side 
of Mr. Cleveland's library-table; and, not knowing 



exactly how to proceed, was employing himself by 
making a calculation, whether there were more black 
than white spots on the body of the old New- 
foundland, who was now apparently most happily 

' Well, Sir ! ' continued the Newfoundland's master, 
' the nature of your communication ? I am fond of 
coming to the point.' 

Now this was precisely the thing which Vivian had 
determined not to do; and so he diplomatised, in 
order to gain time. * In stating, Mr. Cleveland, that 
the communication which I had to make was one of 
importance, I beg it to be understood, that it was with 
reference merely to my opinion of its nature that that 
phrase was used, and not as relative to the possible, 
or, allow me to say, the probable opinion of Mr. 

' Well, Sir ! ' said that gentleman, with a somewhat 
disappointed air. 

* As to the purport or nature of the communica- 
tion, it is,' said Vivian, with one of his sweetest 
cadences, and, looking up to Mr. Cleveland's face, 
with an eye expressive of all kindness, ' it is of a 
political nature.' 

' Well, Sir ! ' again exclaimed Cleveland ; looking 
very anxious, and moving restlessly on his library 

* When we take into consideration, Mr. Cleveland, 
the present aspect of the political world ; when we 
call to mind the present situation of the two great 
political parties, you will not be surprised, I feel 
confident, when I mention that certain personages 
have thought that the season was at hand, when a 
move might be made in the political world with very 
considerable effect ' 


' Mr. Grey, what am I to understand ? ' inter- 
rupted Mr. Cleveland, who began to suspect that the 
envoy was no greenhorn. 

' I feel confident, Mr. Cleveland, that I am doing 
very imperfect justice to the mission with which I 
am intrusted; but, Sir, you must be aware that the 
delicate nature of such disclosures, and ' 

' Mr. Grey, I feel confident that you do not doubt 
my honour ; and, as for the rest, the world has, I 
believe, some foolish tales about me ; but, believe me, 
you shall be listened to with patience. I am certain 
that, whatever may be the communication, Mr. Vivian 
Grey is a gentleman, who will do its merits justice.' 

And now Vivian, having succeeded in exciting 
Cleveland's curiosity, and securing himself the cer- 
tainty of a hearing, and having also made a favour- 
able impression, dropped the diplomatist altogether, 
and was explicit enough for a Spartan. 

' Certain Noblemen and Gentlemen of eminence, 
and influence, hitherto considered as props of the 
party, are about to take a novel and de- 
cided course next Session. It is to obtain the aid, 
and personal co-operation of Mr. Cleveland, that I 
am now in Wales.' 

* Mr. Grey, I have promised to listen to you with 
patience : you are too young a man to know much 
perhaps of the history of so insignificant a personage 
as myself; otherwise, you would have been aware, 
that there is no subject in the world on which I am 
less inclined to converse, than that of politics. If I 
were entitled to take such a liberty, I would beseech 
you to think of them as little as / do ; but enough 
of this : who is the mover of the party ? ' 

' My Lord Courtown is a distinguished member 

of it.' 



' Courtown Courtown ; respectable certainly : but 
surely the good Viscount's skull is not exactly the 
head for the chief of a cabal ? ' 

' There is my Lord Beaconsfield.' 

' Powerful but a dolt.' 

'Well,' thought Vivian, 'it must out at last', and 
so to it boldly. And, Mr. Cleveland, there is little 
fear that we may secure the powerful interest, and 
tried talents of the Marquess of Carabas.' 

* The Marquess of Carabas ! ' almost shrieked Mr. 
Cleveland, as he started from his seat and paced the 
room with hurried steps ; and the greyhound and the 
Newfoundland jumped up from their rug, shook 
themselves, growled, and then imitated their master 
in promenading the apartment, but with more digni- 
fied and stately paces. ' The Marquess of Carabas ! 
Now, Mr. Grey, speak to me with the frankness 
which one high-bred gentleman should use to another ; 
is the Marquess of Carabas privy to this applica- 
tion ? ' 

' He himself proposed it.' 

' Then, Sir, is he baser than even / conceived. 
Oh ! Mr. Grey, I am a man spare of my speech to 
those with whom I am unacquainted ; and the world 
calls me a soured, malicious man. And yet, when I 
think for a moment, that one so young as you are, 
with such talents, and, as I will believe, with so pure 
a spirit, should be the dupe, or tool, or even present 
friend, of such a creature as this perjured Peer, I 
could really play the woman and weep.' 

* Mr. Cleveland,' said Vivian and the drop which 
glistened in his eye, responded to the tear of passion 
which slowly quivered down his companion's cheek, 
* I am grateful for your kindness ; and although 
we shall most probably part, in a few hours, never to 



meet again, I will speak to you with the frankness 
which you have merited, and to which I feel you are 
entitled. I am not the dupe of the Marquess of 
Carabas ; I am not, I trust, the dupe, or tool, of any 
one whatever. Believe me, Sir, there is that at work 
in England, which, taken at the tide, may lead on to 
fortune. I see this, Sir, I, a young man, uncom- 
mitted in political principles, unconnected in public 
life, feeling some confidence, I confess, in my own 
abilities, but desirous of availing myself, at the same 
time, of the powers of others. Thus situated, I find 
myself working for the same end as my Lord Carabas, 
and twenty other men of similar calibre, mental and 
moral ; and, Sir, am I to play the hermit in the drama 
of life, because perchance, my fellow-actors may be 
sometimes fools, and occasionally knaves. Oh ! Mr. 
Cleveland, if the Marquess of Carabas has done you 
the ill service which Fame says he has, your sweetest 
revenge will be to make him, your tool ; your most 
perfect triumph, to rise to power by his influence. 

' I confess that I am desirous of finding in you the 
companion of my career. Your splendid talents have 
long commanded my admiration ; and, as you have 
given me credit for something like good feeling, I 
will say that my wish to find in you a colleague is 
greatly increased, when I see that those splendid 
talents are even the least estimable points in Mr. 
Cleveland's character. But, Sir, perhaps all this time 
I am in error, perhaps Mr. Cleveland is, as the 
world reports him, no longer the ambitious being that 
once commanded the admiration of a listening 
Senate ; perhaps, convinced of the vanity of human 
wishes, Mr. Cleveland would rather devote his atten- 
tion to the furtherance of the interests of his imme- 
diate circle ; and, having schooled his intellect in the 



Universities of two nations, is probably content to 
pass the hours of his life in mediating in the quarrels 
of a country village.' 

Vivian ceased. Cleveland heard him, with his 
head resting on both his arms. He started at the last 
expression, and something like a blush suffused his 
cheek, but he did not reply. At last he jumped up, 
and rang the bell. ' Come, come, Mr. Grey,' said 
he, ' enough of politics for this morning. You shall 
not, at any rate, visit Wales for nothing. Morris ! 
send down to the village for all the sacs and port- 
manteaus belonging to this gentleman. Even we 
cottagers have a bed for a friend, Mr. Grey : come, 
and I'll introduce you to my wife.' 



AND Vivian was now an inmate of K enrich Lodge. 
It would have been difficult to have conceived a life 
of more pure happiness, than that which was appa- 
rently enjoyed by its gifted master. A beautiful 
wife, and lovely children, and a romantic situation, 
and an income sufficient, not only for their own, but 
for the wants of all their necessitous neighbours ; 
what more could man wish ? Answer me, thou 
inexplicable myriad of sensations, which the world 
calls human nature ! 

Three days passed over in most delightful con- 
verse. It was so long since Cleveland had seen any 
one fresh from the former scenes of his life, that the 
company of any one would have been delightful ; but 
here was a companion who knew every one, every 
thing, full of wit, and anecdote, and literature, and 


fashion, and then so engaging in his manners, and 
with such a winning voice. 

The heart of Cleveland relented : his stern manner 
gave way ; all his former warm and generous feeling 
gained the ascendant : he was in turn amusing, 
communicative, and engaging. Finding that he 
could please another, he began to be pleased him- 
self. The nature of the business on which Vivian 
was his guest, rendered confidence necessary ; confi- 
dence begets kindness. In a few days, Vivian 
necessarily became more acquainted with Mr. 
Cleveland's disposition, and situation, than if they 
had been acquainted for as many years ; in short, 

They talked with open heart and tongue, 
Affectionate and true, 
A pair of friends. 

Vivian, for some time, dwelt upon every thing but 
the immediate subject of his mission : but when, 
after the experience of a few days, their hearts were 
open to each other, and they had mutually begun to 
discover, that there was a most astonishing similarity 
in their principles, their tastes, their feelings, then the 
magician poured forth his incantation, and raised the 
once-laid ghost of Cleveland's ambition. The recluse 
agreed to take the lead of the Carabas party. He 
was to leave Wales immediately and resign his place ; 
in return for which, the nephew of Lord Courtown 
was immediately to give up, in his favour, an office of 
considerable emolument ; and, having thus provided 
some certainty for his family, Frederick Cleveland 
prepared himself to combat for a more important 







' Is Mr. Cleveland handsome ? ' asked Mrs. Felix 
Lorraine of Vivian, immediately on his return, ' and 
what colour are his eyes ? ' 

* Upon my honour, I haven't the least recollection 
of ever looking at them ; but I believe he is not 

' How foolish you are ? now tell me pray, point de 
moquerie, is he amusing ? ' 

'What does Mrs. Felix mean by amusing?' asked 
Vivian with an arch smile. 

' Oh ! you always tease me with your definitions ; 
Go away I'll quarrel with you.' 

' Oh ! by the bye, Mrs. Felix Lorraine, how is 
Colonel Delmington ?' 

Vivian redeemed his pledge : Mr. Cleveland 
arrived. It was the wish of the Marquess, if possible, 
not to meet his old friend till dinner-time. He 
thought that, surrounded by his guests, and backed 
by his bottle, certain awkward senatorial reminis- 
cences might be got over. But, unfortunately, Mr. 
Cleveland arrived about an hour before dinner, and, 
as it was a cold autumnal day, most of the visitors, 
who were staying at Chateau Desir, were assembled 
in the drawing-room. The Marquess sallied for- 
ward to receive his guest with a most dignified 
countenance, and a most aristocratic step ; but, before 
he had got half-way, his coronation pace degenerated 
into a strut, and then into a shamble, and with an 
awkward and confused countenance, half impudent, 
and half flinching, he held forward his left hand to 
his newly-arrived visitor. Mr. Cleveland looked 
K 145 


terrifically courteous, and amiably arrogant. He 
greeted the Marquess with a smile, at once gracious, 
and grim, and looked something like Goliath, as you 
see the Philistine depicted in some old German paint- 
ing, looking down upon the pigmy fighting men of 

As is generally the custom, when there is a great 
deal to be arranged, and many points to be settled, 
days flew over, and very little of the future system of 
the party was matured. Vivian made one or two 
ineffectual struggles to bring the Marquess to a busi- 
ness-like habit of mind, but his Lordship never dared 
trust himself alone with Cleveland, and indeed almost 
lost the power of speech when in presence of the 
future leader of his party ; so, in the morning, the 
Marquess played off the two lords, and the Baronet 
against his former friend, and then to compensate for 
not meeting Mr. Cleveland in the morning, he was 
particularly courteous to him at dinner-time, and 
asked him always * how he liked his ride?' and inva- 
riably took wine with him. As for the rest of the 
day, he had particularly requested his faithful coun- 
sellor, Mrs. Felix Lorraine, * for God's sake to take 
this man off his shoulders' ; and so that lady, with 
her usual kindness, and merely to oblige his Lord- 
ship, was good enough to patronize Mr. Cleveland, 
and on the fourth day was taking a moon-lit walk 
with him. 

Mr. Cleveland had now been ten days at Chateau 
Desir, and was to take his departure the next 
morning for Wales, in order to arrange every thing 
for his immediate settlement in the Metropolis. 
Every point of importance was postponed until their 
meeting in London. Mr. Cleveland only agreed to 
take the lead of the party in the Commons, and 



received the personal pledge of Lord Courtown as to 
the promised office. 

It was a September day, and to escape from the 
excessive heat of the sun, and at the same time to 
enjoy the freshness of the air, Vivian was writing his 
letters in the conservatory, which opened into one of 
the drawing-rooms. The numerous party, which 
then honoured the Chateau with their presence, were 
out, as he conceived, on a pic nic excursion to the 
Elfin's Well, a beautiful spot about ten miles off ; 
and among the adventurers were, as he imagined, 
Mrs. Felix Lorraine, and Mr. Cleveland. 

Vivian was rather surprised at hearing voices in 
the adjoining room, and he was still more so, when, 
on looking round, he found that the sounds pro- 
ceeded from the very two individuals whom he 
thought were far away. Some tall American plants 
concealed him from their view, but he observed all 
that passed distinctly, and a singular scene it was. 
Mrs. Felix Lorraine was on her knees at the feet of 
Mr. Cleveland ; her countenance indicated the most 
contrary passions, contending, as it were, for mastery 
Supplication Anger and, shall I call it ? Love. 
Her companion's 'countenance was hid, but it was 
evident that it was not wreathed with smiles : there 
were a few hurried sentences uttered, and then both 
quitted the room at different doors the lady in 
despair, and the gentleman in disgust. 



AND now Chateau Desir was almost deserted. Mrs. 
Million continued her progress northward. The 
Courtowns and the Beaconsfields, and the Scropes, 


quitted immediately after Mr. Cleveland ; and when 
the families that form the materiel of the visiting corps 
retire, the nameless nothings that are always lounging 
about the country mansions of the great, such as 
artists, tourists, litterateurs, and other live stock, soon 
disappear. Mr. Vivian Grey agreed to stay another 
fortnight, at the particular request of the Marquess. 

Very few days had passed, ere Vivian was ex- 
ceedingly struck at the decided change which sud- 
denly took place in his Lordship's general behaviour 
towards him. 

The Marquess grew reserved and uncommuni- 
cative, scarcely mentioning 'the great business,' which 
had previously been the sole subject of his conversa- 
tion, but to find fault with some arrangement, and 
exhibiting, whenever his name was mentioned, a 
marked acrimony against Mr. Cleveland. This rapid 
change alarmed, as much as it astonished Vivian, and 
he mentioned his feelings and observations to Mrs. 
Felix Lorraine. That lady agreed with him, that 
something certainly was wrong, but could not, un- 
fortunately, afford him any clue to the mystery. 
She expressed the liveliest solicitude, that any mis- 
understanding should be put an ehd to, and offered 
her services for that purpose. 

In spite, however, of her well-expressed anxiety, 
Vivian had his own ideas on the subject ; and, deter- 
mined to unravel the affair, he had recourse to a 
person, with whom he seldom interchanged a sentence 
the Marchioness. 

' I hope your Ladyship is well to-day. I had a 
letter from Count Caumont this morning. He tells 
me, that he has got the prettiest poodle from Paris 
that you can possibly conceive ! waltzes like an angel, 
and acts proverbes on its hind feet.' 



Her Ladyship's eyes glistened with admiration. 

* I've told Caumont to send it me down im- 
mediately, and I shall then have the pleasure of 
presenting it to your Ladyship.' 

Her Ladyship's eyes sparkled with delight. 

' I think,' continued Vivian, ' I shall take a ride 
to-day. By the bye, how's the Marquess ? he seems 
in low spirits lately.' 

4 Oh ! Mr. Grey, I don't know what you've done 
to him,' said her Ladyship, settling at least a dozen 
bracelets ; ' but but ' 

But what, my lady ? ' 

* He thinks he thinks ' 

* Thinks what, my lady ? ' 

* That you've entered into a conspiracy, Mr. Grey.' 

* Entered into a conspiracy ! ' 

' Yes ! Mr. Grey, a conspiracy a conspiracy against 
the Marquess of Carabas, with Mr Cleveland. He 
thinks that you have made him serve your purpose, 
and that now you're going to get rid of him.' 

' Well, that's excellent ; and what else does he 

' He thinks you talk too loud,' said the Marchion- 
ess, still working at her bracelets. 

4 Well ! that's shockingly vulgar ! Allow me to 
recommend your Ladyship to alter the order of those 
bracelets^ and place the blue and silver against the 
maroon. You may depend upon it, that's the true 
Vienna order and what else does the Marquess say ? ' 

' He thinks you are generally too authoritative. 
Not that I think so, Mr. Grey ; I'm sure your con- 
duct to me has been most courteous the blue and 
silver next to the maroon, did you say ? Yes, 
certainly it does look better. I've no doubt the 
Marquess is quite wrong, and I dare say you'll set 



things right immediately. You'll remember the 
pretty poodle, Mr. Grey ? and you'll not tell the 
Marquess I mentioned any thing.' 

' Oh ! certainly not. I'll give orders for them to 
book an inside place for the poodle, and send him 
down by the coach immediately. I must be off now. 
Remember the blue and silver next to the maroon. 
Good morning to your Ladyship ! ' 

' Mrs. Felix Lorraine, I am your most obedient 
slave,' said Vivian Grey, as he met that lady on the 
landing-place ; ' I can see no reason why I should 
not drive you this bright day to the Elfin's Well ; we 
have long had an engagement together.' 

The lady smiled a gracious assent ; the pony 
phaeton was immediately ordered. 

' How pleasant Lady Courtown and I used to dis- 
course about martingales ! I think I invented one, 
didn't I ? Pray, Mrs. Felix Lorraine, can you tell 
me what a martingale is ? for upon my honour I've 
forgotten, or never knew.' 

* If you found a martingale for the mother, Vivian, 
it had been well if you had found a curb for the 
daughter. Poor Cynthia! I had intended once to 
advise the Marchioness to interfere ; but one forgets 
these things.' 

' One does. Oh ! Mrs. Felix,' exclaimed Vivian, 
' I told your admirable story of the Leyden Pro- 
fessor to Mrs. Cleveland. It's universally agreed to 
be the best ghost story extant. I think you said you 
knew the Professor?' 

4 Oh, well ! I have seen him often, and heard the 
story from his own lips. And, as I mentioned be- 
fore, far from being superstitious, he was an esprit 
fort. Do you know, Mr. Grey, I have such an inter- 
esting packet from Germany to-day ; from my cousin, 



Baron Rodenstein ; but I must keep all the stories 
for the evening ; come to my boudoir, and I will 
read them to you there is one tale which I am sure 
will make a convert even of you. It happened to 
Rodenstein himself, and within these three months :' 
added the lady in a serious tone. ' The Rodensteins 
are a singular family. My mother was a Rodenstein. 
Do you think this beautiful ? ' said Mrs. Felix, show- 
ing Vivian a very small miniature which was attached 
to a chain round her neck. It was the portrait of a 
youth habited in the costume of a German student. 
His rich brown hair was flowing over his shoulders, 
and his dark blue eyes beamed with such a look of 
mysterious inspiration, that they might have befitted 
a young prophet. 

' Very, 'very beautiful ? ' 

*'Tis Max Max Rodenstein,' said the lady with a 
faltering voice. * He was killed at Leipsic, at the 
head of a band of his friends and fellow students. 
Oh ? Mr. Grey, this is a fair work of art, but if you 
had but seen the prototype, you would have gazed 
'on this as on a dim and washed out drawing. There 
was one portrait, indeed, which did him more justice 
but then, that portrait was not the production of 
mortal pencil.' 

Vivian looked at his companion with a somewhat 
astonished air, but Mrs. Felix Lorraine's countenance 
was as little indicative of jesting as that of the young 
student whose miniature rested on her bosom. 

' Did you say not the production of a mortal hand, 
Mrs. Felix Lorraine ? ' 

' I'm afraid I shall weary you with my stories, but 
the one I am about to tell is so well evidenced, that 
I think even Mr. Vivian Grey will hear it without a 

'5 1 


' A sneer ! Oh ! Lady love, do I ever sneer ? ' 

' Max Rodenstein was the glory of his house. A 
being so beautiful in body, and in soul, you cannot 
imagine, and I will not attempt to describe. This 
miniature has given you some faint idea of his image, 
and yet this is only the copy of a copy* The only 
wish of the Baroness Rodenstein, which never could 
be accomplished, was the possession of a portrait of 
her youngest son for no consideration could induce 
Max to allow his likeness to be taken. His old 
nurse had always told him that the moment that his 
portrait v/as taken^ he would die. The condition 
upon which such a beautiful being was allowed to 
remain in the world was, as she always said, that his 
beauty should not be imitated. About three months 
before the battle of Leipsic, when Max was absent at 
the University, which was nearly four hundred miles 
from Rodenstein Castle, there arrived one morning a 
large case directed to the Baroness. On opening it, 
it was found to contain a picture the portrait of her 
son. The colouring was so vivid, the general execu- 
tion so miraculous, that for some moments they for- 
got to wonder at the incident in their admiration of 
the work of art. In one corner of the picture, in 
small characters, yet fresh, was an inscription, which 
on examining they found consisted of these words, 
'Painted last night. Now, lady, thou hast thy wish' 
My aunt sunk into the Baron's arms. 

' In silence and in trembling the wonderful portrait 
was suspended over the fire-place of my aunt's most 
favourite apartment. The next day, they received 
letters from Max. He was quite well, but men- 
tioned nothing of the mysterious painting. 

' Three months afterwards, as a lady was sitting 
alone in the Baroness's room, and gazing on the 


portrait of him she loved right dearly, she suddenly 
started from her seat, and would have shrieked, had 
not an indefinable sensation prevented her. The 
eyes of the portrait moved. The lady stood leaning 
on a chair, pale, and trembling like an aspen, but 
gazing stedfastly on the animated portrait. It was 
no illusion of a heated fancy ; again the eyelids 
trembled, there was a melancholy smile, and then 
they closed. The clock of Rodenstein Castle struck 
three. Between astonishment and fear, the Lady 
was tearless. Three days afterwards came the news 
of the battle of Leipsic, and at the very moment that 
the eyes of the portrait closed, Max Rodenstein had 
been pierced by a Polish Lancer.' 

* And who was this wonderful lady, the witness of 
this wonderful incident ?' asked Vivian. 

* That lady was myself.' 

There was something so singular in the tone of 
Mrs. Felix Lorraine's voice, and so peculiar in the 
expression of her countenance, as she uttered these 
words, that the jest died on Vivian's tongue; and 
for want of something better to do, he lashed the 
little poneys, who were already scampering at their 
full speed. 

The road to the Elfin's Well ran through the 
wildest parts of the park ; and after an hour and a 
half s drive, they reached the fairy spot. It was a 
beautiful and pellucid spring, that bubbled up in a 
small wild dell, which, nurtured by the flowing 
stream, was singularly fresh and green. Above the 
spring, the taste of the Marquess, or the Marquess's 
steward, had erected a Gothic arch of grey stone, 
round which grew a few fine birch trees. In short, 
Nature had intended the spot for pic nics. There 
was fine water, and an interesting tradition ; and as 



the parties always bring, or always should bring, a 
trained punster, champagne, and cold pasties, what 
more ought Nature to have provided ? 

' Come, Mrs. Lorraine, I will tie Gypsey to this 
ash, and then you and I will rest ourselves beneath 
these birch trees, just where the fairies dance.' 

'Oh, delightful!' 

* Now truly, we should have some book of 
beautiful poetry to while away an hour. You will 
blame me for not bringing one. Do not. I would 
sooner listen to your voice; and, indeed, there is a 
subject on which I wish to ask your particular 

'Is there?' 

' I have been thinking that this is a somewhat rash 
step of the Marquess, this throwing himself into 
the arms of his former bitterest enemy, Cleveland.' 

* You really think so ? ' 

1 Why, Mrs. Lorraine, does it appear to you to be 
the most prudent course of action, which could have 
been conceived ? ' 

' Certainly not.' 

* You agree with me, then, that there is, if not 
cause for regret at this engagement, at least for 
reflection on its probable consequences ?' 

* I quite agree with you.' 

* I know you do. I have had some conversation 
with the Marquess upon this subject, this very 

' Have you ?' eagerly exclaimed the lady, and she 
looked pale, and breathed short. 

' Ay ; and he tells me you have made some very 
sensible observations on the subject. 'Tis a pity 
they were not made before Mr. Cleveland left, the 
mischief might then have been prevented.' 



' I certainly have made some observations.' 

* And very kind of you ; what a blessing for the 
Marquess to have such a friend ! ' 

' I spoke to him,' said Mrs. Felix, with a more 
assured tone, ' in much the same spirit as you have 
been addressing me. It does, indeed, seem a most 
imprudent act, and I thought it my duty to tell him 

* Ay, no doubt ; but how came you, lady fair, to 
imagine that / was also a person to be dreaded by his 
Lordship 7, Vivian Grey ? ' 

4 Did I say you ? ' asked the lady, pale as death 

' Did you not, Mrs. Felix Lorraine ? Have you 
not, regardless of my interests, in the most un- 
warrantable and unjustifiable manner have you not, 
to gratify some private pique which you entertain 
against Mr. Cleveland, have you not, I ask you, 
poisoned the Marquess's mind against one, who 
never did aught to you, but what was kind and 
honourable ? ' 

' I have been imprudent I confess it I have 
spoken somewhat loosely.' 

' Now, madam, listen to me once more,' and 
Vivian grasped her hand ' What has passed be- 
tween you and Mr. Cleveland, it is not for me to 
enquire I give you my word of honour, that he 
never even mentioned your name to me. I can 
scarcely understand how any man could have in- 
curred the deadly hatred which you appear to 
entertain for him. I repeat, I can contemplate no 
situation in which you could be placed together, 
which would justify such behaviour. It could not be 

justified, even if he had spurned you while 

kneeling at his feet .' 

Mrs. Felix Lorraine shrieked and fainted. A 


sprinkling from the fairy stream soon recovered 
her. * Spare me ! spare me ! " she faintly cried : 
* do not expose me.' 

' Mrs. Lorraine, I have no wish. I have spoken 
thus explicitly, that we may not again misunderstand 
each other I have spoken thus explicitly, I say, 
that I may not be under the necessity of speaking 
again, for if I speak again, it must not be to Mrs. 
Felix Lorraine there is my hand, and now let the 
Elfin's Well be blotted out of our memories.' 

Vivian drove rapidly home, and endeavoured to 
to talk in his usual tone, and with his usual spirit ; 
but his companion could not be excited. Once, ay 
twice, she pressed his hand, and as he assisted her 
from the phaeton, she murmured something like 

a blessing. She ran up stairs immediately. 

Vivian had to give some directions about the 
poneys ; Gypsey was ill, or Fanny had a cold, or 
something of the kind, and so he was detained for 
about a quarter of an hour before the house, speak- 
ing most learnedly to grooms, and consulting on 
cases with a skilled gravity worthy of Professor 

When he entered the parlour he found the 
luncheon prepared and Mrs. Felix pressed him 
very earnestly to take some refreshment. He was 
indeed wearied, and agreed to take a glass of hock 
and seltzer. 

' Let me mix it for you,' said Mrs. Felix ; ' do 
you like sugar ? ' 

Tired with his drive, Vivian Grey was leaning on 
the mantel-piece, with his eyes vacantly gazing on 
the looking-glass which rested on the marble slab. 
It was by pure accident that, reflected in the mirror, 
he distinctly beheld Mrs. Felix Lorraine open a 



small silver box, and throw some powder into the 
tumbler which she was preparing for him. She was 
leaning down, with her back almost turned to the 
glass, but still Vivian saw it distinctly. A sickness 
came over him, and ere he could recover himself, 
his Hebe tapped him on the shoulder 

' Here, drink, drink while it is effervescent.' 
' I cannot drink,' said Vivian, * I am not thirsty 
I am too hot I am anything ' 

* How foolish you are ! It will be quite spoiled/ 

' No, no, the dog shall have it. Here, Fidele, 
you look thirsty enough come here ' 

' Mr. Grey, I do not mix tumblers for dogs,' said 
the lady, rather agitated : ' If you will not take it,' 
and she held it once more before him, ' here it 
goes for ever.' So saying, she emptied the tumbler 
into a large globe of glass, in which some gold and 
silver fishes were swimming their endless rounds. 



THIS last specimen of Mrs. Felix Lorraine was 
somewhat too much, even for the steeled nerves of 
Vivian Grey, and he sought his chamber for relief. 

* Is it possible ? Can I believe my senses ? Or 
has some daemon, as we read of in old tales, mocked 
me in a magic mirror ? I can believe anything. 
Oh ! my heart is very sick ! I once imagined, that 
I was using this woman for my purpose. Is it 
possible, that aught of good can come to one who 
is forced to make use of such evil instruments as 
these ? A horrible thought sometimes comes over 
my spirit. I fancy, that in this mysterious foreigner, 
that in this woman, I have met a kind of double of 


myself. The same wonderful knowledge of the 
human mind, the same sweetness of voice, the same 
miraculous management which has brought us both 
under the same roof: yet do I find her the most 
abandoned of all beings ; a creature guilty of that, 
which, even in this guilty age, I thought was 
obsolete. And is it possible that I am like her ? 
that I can resemble her ? that even the indefinite 
shadow of my most unhallowed thought, can, for 
a moment, be as vile as her righteousness ? Oh, 
God ! the system of my existence seems to stop : I 
cannot breathe.' He flung himself upon his bed, 
and felt for a moment as if he had quaffed the 
poisoned draught so lately offered. 

* It is not so it cannot be so it shall not be so ! 
In seeking the Marquess, I was unquestionably im- 
pelled by a mere feeling of self-interest ; but I have 
advised him to no course of action, in which his 
welfare is not equally consulted with my own. 
Indeed, if not Principle, Interest would make me 
act faithfully towards him, for my fortunes are 
bound up in his. But am I entitled I, who can 
lose nothing ; am I entitled to play with other 
men's fortunes ? Am I, all this time, deceiving 
myself with some wretched sophistry ? Am I then 
an intellectual Don Juan, reckless of human minds, 
as he was of human bodies a spiritual libertine ? 
But why this wild declamation ? Whatever I have 
done, it is too late to recede ; even this very 
moment, delay is destruction, for now, it is not a 
question as to the ultimate prosperity of our worldly 
prospects, but the immediate safety of our very 
bodies. Poison ! Oh, God ! Oh, God ! Away with 
all fear all repentance all thought of past all 
reckoning of future. If I am the Juan that I 



fancied myself, then, Heaven be praised ! I have a 
confidant in all my trouble ; the most faithful of 
counsellors ; the craftiest of valets ; a Leporello 
often tried, and never found wanting my own 
good mind. * And now, thou female fiend ! the 
battle is to the strongest ; and I see right well, that 
the struggle between two such spirits will be a long 
and a fearful one. Woe, I say, to the vanquished ! 
You must be dealt with by arts, which even yourself 
cannot conceive. Your boasted knowledge of human 
nature shall not again stand you in stead ; for, mark 
me, from henceforward, Vivian Grey's conduct to- 
wards you shall have no precedent in human nature.' 

As Vivian re-entered the drawing-room, he met 
a servant carrying out the globe of gold and silver 

' What, still in your pelisse, Mrs. Lorraine,' said 
Vivian. ' Nay, I hardly wonder at it, for surely, a 
prettier pelisse never yet fitted prettier form. You 
have certainly a most admirable taste in dress ; and 
this the more surprises me, for it is generally your 
plain personage, that is the most recherche in frills, 
and fans, and flounces.' 

The lady smiled. 

' Oh ! by the bye,' continued her companion, ' I've 
a letter from Cleveland this morning. I wonder 
how any misunderstanding could possibly have 
existed between you, for he speaks of you in such 

' What does he say ? ' was the quick question. 

* Oh! what does he say ? " drawled out Vivian ; and 
he yawned, and was most provokingly uncommuni- 

' Come, come, Mr. Grey, do tell me.' 

' Oh ! tell you certainly. Come, let us walk 


together in the conservatory : ' so saying, he took 
the lady by the hand, and they left the room. 
' And now for the letter, Mr. Grey ! ' 
' Ay, now for the letter ;' and Vivian slowly 
drew an epistle from his pocket, and therefrom read 
some exceedingly sweet passages, which made Mrs. 
Felix Lorraine's very heart's blood tingle. Con- 
sidering that Vivian Grey had never in his life 
received a single letter from Mr. Cleveland, this was 
tolerably well: but he was always an admirable 
Improvisatore! ' I am sure that when Cleveland 
comes to town everything will be explained ; I am 
sure, at least, that it will not be my fault, if you are 
not the best friends. I am heroic in saying all this, 
Mrs. Lorraine ; there was a time, when (and here 
Vivian seemed so agitated that he could scarcely 
proceed) there was a time when I could have called 
that man liar! who would have prophesied that 
Vivian Grey could have assisted another in rivetting 
the affections of Mrs. Felix Lorraine ; but enough 
of this. I am a weak inexperienced boy, and mis- 
interpret, perhaps, that, which is merely the com- 
passionate kindness natural to all women, into a 
feeling of a higher nature. But, I must learn to 
contain myself; I really do feel quite ashamed of 
my behaviour about the tumbler to-day : to act with 
such unwarrantable unkindness, merely because I 
had remembered that you once performed the same 
kind office for Colonel Delmington was indeed too 

* Colonel Delmington is a vain, empty-headed fool. 
Do not think of him, my dear Mr. Grey,' said Mrs. 
Felix, with a countenance beaming with smiles. 

* Well, I will not ; and I'll try to behave like a 
man ; like a man of the world, I should say : but 



indeed you must excuse the warm feelings of a 
youth : and truly, when I call to mind the first days 
of our acquaintance, and then remember that our 
moon-lit walks are gone for ever and that our 

' Nay, do not believe so, my dear Vivian : believe 
me, as I ever shall be, your friend, your ' 

' I will, I will, my dear, my own Amalia ! ' 



IT was an Autumnal night the wind was capricious 
and changeable as a petted beauty, or an Italian 
greyhound, or a shot silk. Now the breeze blew so 
fresh, that the white clouds dashed along the sky, as 
if they bore a band of witches, too late for their 
sabbath meeting or some other mischief: and now, 
lulled and soft as the breath of a slumbering infant, 
you might almost have fancied it Midsummer's Eve ; 
and the bright moon, with her starry court, reigned 
undisturbed in the light blue sky. Vivian Grey was 
leaning against an old beech tree in the most secluded 
part of the park, and was gazing on the moon. 

Oh ! thou bright moon ! thou object of my first 
love ! thou shalt not escape an invocation, although, 
perchance at this very moment, some varlet sonneteer 
is prating of ' thy boy Endymion,' and ' thy silver 
bow.' Here to thee, Queen of the Night ! in 
whatever name thou most delightest ! Or Bendis, 
as they hail you in rugged Thrace ; or Bubastis, as 
they howled to you in mysterious Egypt ; or Dian, 
as they sacrificed to you in gorgeous Rome ; or 
Artemis, as they sighed to you on the bright plains of 
ever glorious Greece ! Why is it, that all men gaze 
L 161 


on thee ? Why is it, that all men love thee ? Why 
is it, that all men worship thee ? 

Shine on, shine on, Sultana of the soul ! the 
Passions are thy eunuch slaves ; Ambition gazes on 
thee, and his burning brow is cooled, and his fitful 
pulse is calm. Grief wanders in her moon-lit walk, 
and sheds no tear ; and when your crescent smiles, 
the lustre of Joy's revelling eye is dusked. Quick 
Anger, in your light, forgets revenge ; and even 
dove-eyed Hope feeds on no future joys, when 
gazing on the miracle of thy beauty. 

Shine on, shine on ! although a pure Virgin, thou 
art the mighty mother of all abstraction ! The eye 
of the weary peasant returning from his daily toil, 
and the rapt gaze of the inspired poet, are alike 
fixed on thee ; thou stillest the roar of marching 
armies ; and who can doubt thy influence o'er the 
waves, who has witnessed the wide Atlantic sleeping 
under thy silver beams ? 

Shine on, shine on ! they say thou art Earth's 
satellite ; yet when I do gaze on thee, my thoughts 
are not of thy Suzerain. They teach us that thy 
power is a fable, and that thy divinity is a dream. 
Oh, thou bright Queen ! I will be no traitor to thy 
sweet authority ; and verily, I will not believe that 
thy influence o'er our hearts is, at this moment, less 
potent, than when we worshipped in thy glittering 
fane of Ephesus, or trembled at the dark horrors of 
thine Arician rites. Then, hail to thee, Queen of the 
Night ! Hail to thee, Diana, Triformis, Cynthia, 
Orthia, Taurica, ever mighty, ever lovely, ever holy ! 
Hail! hail! hail! 

If I were a metaphysician, I would tell you why 
Vivian Grey had been gazing two hours on the 
moon, for I could then present you with a most 



logical programme of the march of his ideas, since he 
whispered his last honied speech in the ear of Mrs. 
Felix Lorraine, at dinner time, until this very 
moment, when he did not even remember that such 
a being as Mrs. Felix Lorraine breathed. Glory to 
the metaphysician's all perfect theory ! When they 
can tell me why, at a bright banquet, the thought of 
death has flashed across my mind, who fear not death ; 
when they can tell me, why, at the burial of my 
beloved friend, when my very heart-strings seemed 
bursting, my sorrow has been mocked by the involun- 
tary remembrance of ludicrous adventures, and gro- 
tesque tales ; when they can tell me why, in a dark 
mountain pass, I have thought of an absent woman's 
eyes ; or why, when in the very act of squeezing 
the third lime into a beaker of Burgundy cup, my 
memory hath been of lean apothecaries, and their 
vile drugs; why then, I say again, glory to the 
metaphysician's all perfect theory ! and fare you well, 
sweet world, and you my merry masters, whom, 
perhaps, I have studied somewhat too cunningly : 
nosce teipsum shall be my motto. I'll doff my travel- 
ling cap, and on with the monk's cowl. 

There are mysterious moments in some men's 
lives, when the faces of human beings are very agony 
to them, and when the sound of the human voice is 
jarring as discordant music. These fits are not the 
consequence of violent or contending passions ; they 
grow not out of sorrow, nor joy, nor hope, nor fear, 
nor hatred, nor despair. For in the hour of afflic- 
tion, the tones of our fellow-creatures are ravishing 
as the most delicate lute ; and in the flush moment 
of joy, where is the smiler, who loves not a witness 
to his revelry, or a listener to his good fortune ? 
Fear makes us feel our humanity, and then we fly to 



men, and Hope is the parent of kindness. The 
misanthrope and the reckless, are neither agitated, 
nor agonized. It is in these moments, that men 
find in Nature that congeniality of spirit, which they 
seek for, in vain, in their own species. It is in these 
moments, that we sit by the side of a waterfall, and 
listen to its music the live day long. It is in these 
moments, that we gaze upon the moon. It is in 
these moments, that Nature becomes our Egeria; 
and refreshed and renovated by this beautiful com- 
munion, we return to the world, better enabled to 
fight our parts in the hot war of passions, to per- 
form the great duties, for which man appears to 
have been created, to love, to hate, to slander, and 
to slay. 

It was past midnight, and Vivian was at a con- 
siderable distance from the Chateau. He proposed 
entering by a side-door, which led into the billiard- 
room, and from thence crossing the Long Gallery, he 
could easily reach his apartment, without disturbing 
any of the household. His way led through the 
little gate, at which he had parted with Mrs. Felix 
Lorraine on the first day of their meeting. 

As he softly opened the door which led into the 
Long Gallery, he found he was not alone. Leaning 
against one of the casements, was a female. Her 
profile was to Vivian as he entered, and the moon, 
which shone bright through the window, lit up a 
countenance, which he might be excused for not 
immediately recognising as that of Mrs. Felix Lor- 
raine. She was gazing stedfastly, but her eye did 
not seem fixed upon any particular object. Her 
features appeared convulsed, but their contortions 
were not momentary, and pale as death, a hideous 
grin seemed chiselled on her idiot countenance. 



Vivian scarcely knew whether to stay or to retire. 
Desirous not to disturb her, he determined not even 
to breathe ; and, as is generally the case, his very 
exertions to be silent made him nervous ; and to 
save himself from being stifled, he coughed. 

Mrs. Lorraine immediately started, and stared 
wildly around her; and when her eye caught 
Vivian's, there was a sound in her throat something 
like the death rattle. 

4 Who are you ? ' she eagerly asked. 

* A friend, and Vivian Grey.' 

* Grey ! how came you here ? ' and she rushed for- 
ward and wildly seized his hand and then she mut- 
tered to herself, ' 'tis flesh 'tis flesh.' 

' I have been playing, I fear, the mooncalf to-night ; 
and find, that though I am a late watcher, I am not 
a solitary one/ 

Mrs. Lorraine stared earnestly at him, and then 
she endeavoured to assume her usual expression of 
countenance ; but the effort was too much for her. 
She dropped Vivian's arm, and buried her face in her 
own hands. Vivian was retiring, when she again 
looked up. ' Where are you going ? ' she asked, 
with a quick voice. 

' To sleep as I would advise all : 'tis much past 

' Thou sayest not the truth. The brightness of 
your eye belies the sentence of your tongue. You 
are not for sleep.' 

* Pardon me, my dear Mrs. Lorraine, I really have 
been gaping for the last hour,' said Vivian, and he 
moved on. 

' Mr. Grey ! you are speaking to one who takes 
her answer from the eye, which does not deceive, and 
from the speaking lineaments of the face, which are 


Truth's witnesses. Keep your voice for those who 
can credit man's words. You will go, then. What! 
are you afraid of a woman, because ' 'tis past mid- 
night,' and you're in an old gallery.' 

' Fear, Mrs. Lorraine, is not a word in my vocabu- 

' The words in thy vocabulary are few, boy ! as are 
the years of thine age. He who sent you here this 
night, sent you here not to slumber. Come hither ! ' 
and she led Vivian to the window : ' what see you ? ' 

' I see Nature at rest, Mrs. Lorraine ; and I would 
fain follow the example of beasts, birds, and fishes.' 

' Yet gaze upon this scene one second. See the 
distant hills, how beautifully their rich covering is 
tinted with the moonbeam ! These nearer fir-trees 
how radiantly their black skeleton forms are tipped 
with silver ! and the old and thickly-foliaged oaks 
bathed in light ! and the purple lake reflecting in its 
lustrous bosom another heaven ! Is it not a fair 
scene ? ' 

' Beautiful ! Oh, most beautiful ! ' 

' Yet, Vivian, where is the being for whom all this 
beauty existeth ? Where is your mighty creature- 
Man ? The peasant on his rough couch enjoys, 
perchance, slavery's only service-money sweet sleep ; 
or, waking in the night, curses at the same time his 
lot and his lord v And that lord is restless on some 
downy couch ; his night thoughts, not of this sheeny 
lake and this bright moon, but of some miserable 
creation of man's artifice, some mighty nothing, 
which Nature knows not of, some offspring of her 
bastard child Society. Why then is Nature loveliest 
when man looks not on her ? For whom, then, 
Vivian Grey, is this scene so fair ?' 

' For poets, lady ; for philosophers ; for all those 


superior spirits who require some relaxation from 
the world's toils ; spirits who only commingle with 
humanity, on the condition that they may sometimes 
commune with Nature.' 

' Superior spirits ! say you ?' and here they paced 
the gallery. ' When Valerian, first Lord Carabas, 
raised this fair castle when, profuse for his posterity, 
all the genius of Italian art and Italian artists was 
lavished on this English palace ; when the stuffs, and 
statues, the marbles, and the mirrors, the tapestry, 
and the carvings, and the paintings of Genoa, and 
Florence, and Venice, and Padua, and Vicenza, were 
obtained by him at miraculous cost, and with still 
more miraculous toil ; what think you would have 
been his sensations, if, while his soul was revelling in 
the futurity of his descendants keeping their state in 
this splendid pile, some wizard had foretold to him, 
that ere three centuries could elapse, the fortunes of 
his mighty family would be the sport of two in- 
dividuals ; one of them, a foreigner unconnected in 
blood, or connected only in hatred ; and the other, a 
young adventurer alike unconnected with his race, in 
blood, or in love ; a being, ruling all things by the 
power of his own genius, and reckless of all conse- 
quences, save his own prosperity. If the future had 
been revealed to my great ancestor, the Lord Valerian, 
think you, Vivian Grey, that we should have been 
walking in this long gallery ?' 

' Really, Mrs. Lorraine, I have been so interested 
in discovering what people think in the nineteenth 
century, that I have had but little time to speculate 
on the possible opinions of an old gentleman who 
flourished in the sixteenth.' 

' You may sneer, sir ; but I ask you, if there are 
spirits so superior to that of the slumbering Lord 



of this castle, as those of Vivian Grey and Amalia 
Lorraine ; why may there not be spirits pro- 
portionately superior to our own ?' 

' If you are keeping me from my bed, Mrs. 
Lorraine, merely to lecture my conceit by proving 
that there are in this world wiser heads than that 
of Vivian Grey, on my honour, madam, you are 
giving yourself a great deal of unnecessary trouble.' 

' You will misunderstand me, then, thou wilful 

' Nay, lady, I will not affect to misunderstand your 
meaning ; but I recognise, you know full well, no 
intermediate essence between my own good soul, and 
that ineffable and omnipotent spirit, in whose existence 
philosophers and priests alike agree.' 

' Omnipotent, and ineffable essence ! Oh ! leave 
such words to scholars, and to schoolboys ! And 
think you, that such indefinite nothings, such un- 
meaning abstractions, can influence beings whose 
veins are full of blood, bubbling like this ? And 
here she grasped Vivian with a feverish hand 
' Omnipotent, and ineffable essence ! Oh ! I have 
lived in a land, where every mountain, and every 
stream, and every wood, and every ruin, has its 
legend, and its peculiar spirit ; a land, in whose dark 
forests, the midnight hunter, with his spirit-shout, 
scares the slumbers of the trembling serf; a land, 
from whose winding rivers, the fair-haired Undine 
welcomes the belated traveller to her fond, and fatal, 
embrace ; and you talk to me of omnipotent and 
ineffable essences ! Oh ! miserable mocker ! It is 
not true, Vivian Grey; you are but echoing the 
world's deceit, and even at this hour of the night, 
thou darest not speak as thou dost think. Thou 
worshippest no omnipotent and ineffable essence 

1 68 


thou believest in no omnipotent and ineffable essence ; 
shrined in the secret chamber of your soul, there is 
an image, before which you bow down in adoration, 

and that image is YOURSELF. And truly when I 

do gaze upon thy radiant eyes/ and here the lady's 
tone became more terrestrial, ' and truly when I do 
look upon thy luxuriant curls,' and here the lady's 
small white hand played like lightning through 
Vivian's dark hair, ' and truly when I do remember 
the beauty of thy all-perfect form, I cannot deem thy 
self-worship a false idolatry;' and here the lady's 
arms were locked round Vivian's neck, and her head 
rested on his bosom. 

' Oh ! Am alia ! it would be far better for you to 
rest here, than to think of that, of which the know- 
ledge is vanity.' 

'Vanity!' shrieked Mrs. Lorraine, and she 
violently loosed her embrace, and extricated her- 
self from the arm, which, rather in courtesy, than in 
kindness, had been wound round her delicate waist 
' Vanity ! Oh ! if you knew but what I know ! 
Oh ! if you had but seen what I have seen ' and 
here her voice failed her, and she stood motionless 
in the moonshine, with averted head and outstretched 

4 Amalia ! this is very madness ; for Heaven's 
sake calm yourself ! ' 

'Calm myself! Oh! it is madness; very, very 
madness ! 'tis the madness of the fascinated bird ; 
'tis the madness of the murderer who is voluntarily 
broken on the wheel ; 'tis the madness of the fawn, 
that gazes with adoration on the lurid glare of the 
anaconda's eye ; 'tis the madness of woman who flies 
to the arms of her Fate ; ' and here she sprang like 
a tigress round Vivian's neck, her long light hair 



bursting from its bands, and clustering down her 

And here was Vivian Grey, at past midnight, in 
this old gallery, with this wild woman clinging round 
his neck. The figures in the ancient tapestry looked 
living in the moon, and immediately opposite him 
was one compartment of some old mythological tale, 
in which were represented, grinning, in grim majesty, 


The wind now rose again, and the clouds which 
had vanished, began to re-assemble in the heavens. 
As the blue sky was gradually being covered, the 
gigantic figures of Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos, 
became as gradually dimmer, and dimmer, and the 
grasp of Vivian's fearful burthen looser, and looser. 
At last the moon was entirely hid, the figures of the 
Fates vanished, and Mrs. Felix Lorraine sank lifeless 
into his arms. 

Vivian groped his way with difficulty to the 
nearest window, the very one at which she was 
leaning, when he first entered the gallery. He 
played with her wild curls ; he whispered to her 
in a voice sweeter than the sweetest serenade ; but 
she only raised her eyes from his breast, and stared 
wildly at him, and then clung round his neck with, if 
possible, a tighter grasp. 

For nearly half an hour did Vivian stand leaning 
against the window, with his mystic and motionless 
companion. At length the wind again fell : there 
was a break in the sky, and a single star appeared in 
the midst of the clouds, surrounded with a little 
heaven of azure. 

' See there, see there ! ' the lady cried, and then she 
unlocked her arms. ' What would you give, Vivian 
Grey, to read that star ?' 



' Am I more interested in that star, Amalia, than 
in any other of the bright host ?' asked Vivian, with 
a serious tone, for he thought it necessary to humour 
his companion. 

' Are you not ? is it not the star of thy destiny ?' 

1 And are you learned in all the learning of the 
Chaldeans too, lady ?' 

* Oh, no, no, no ! ' slowly murmured Mrs. Lor- 
raine, and then she started ; but Vivian seized her 
arms, and prevented her from again clasping his neck. 

' I must keep these pretty hands close prisoners,' 
he said, smiling, ' unless you promise to behave with 
more moderation. Come, my Amalia ! you shall be 
my instructress ! Why am I .so interested in this 
brilliant star ?' and holding her hands in one of his, 
he wound his arm round her waist, and whispered 
her such words, as he thought might calm her 
troubled spirit. The wildness of her eyes gradually 
gave way ; at length, she raised them to Vivian with 
a look of meek tenderness, and her head sank upon 
his breast. 

' It shines, it shines, it shines, Vivian ! ' she softly 
whispered, ' glory to thee, and woe to me ! Nay, 
you need not hold my hands, I will not harm you. 
I cannot 'tis no use. Oh, Vivian ! when we first 
met, how little did I know to whom I pledged 
myself ! ' 

' Amalia, forget these wild fancies, estrange your- 
self from the murky mysticism which has exercised 
so baneful an influence, not only over your mind, 
but over the very soul of the land from which you 
come. Recognize in me only your friend, and leave 
the other world to those who value it more, or more 
deserve it. Does not this fair earth contain sufficient 
of interest and enjoyment ? ' 



' Oh, Vivian ! you speak with a sweet voice, but with 
a sceptic's spirit. Thou knowest not what I know.' 

'Tell me then, my Amalia; let me share your 
secrets, provided they be your sorrows.' 

* Oh, Vivian ! almost within this hour, and in this 

park, there has happened that which ' and here 

her voice died, and she looked fearfully round her. 

'Nay, fear not, fear not; no one can harm you 
here, no one shall harm you. Rest, rest upon me, 
and tell me all thy grief 

' I dare not I cannot tell you.' 

' Nay, my own love, thou shalt.' 

' I cannot speak, your eye scares me. Are you 
mocking me ? I cannot speak if you look so at me.' 

' I will not look on you ; I will play with your 
long hair, and gaze on yonder star. Now, speak 
on, my own love.' 

' Oh ! Vivian, there is a custom in my native 
land the world calls it an unhallowed one ; you, in 
your proud spirit, will call it a vain one. But you 
would not deem it vain, if you were the woman now 
resting on your bosom. At certain hours of par- 
ticular nights, and with peculiar ceremonies, which 
I need not here mention we do believe, that in a 
lake or other standing water, fate reveals itself to the 
solitary votary. Oh ! Vivian, I have been too long 
a searcher after this fearful science ; and this very 
night, agitated in spirit, I sought yon water. The 
wind was in the right direction, and every thing con- 
curred in favouring a most propitious divination. I 
knelt down to gaze on the lake. I had always been 
accustomed to view my own figure performing some 
future action, or engaged in some future scene of 
my life. I gazed, but I saw nothing but a brilliant 
star. I looked up into the heavens, but the star was 



not there, and the clouds were driving quick across 
the sky. More than usually agitated by this singular 
occurrence, I gazed once more ; and just at the 
moment, when with breathless and fearful expecta- 
tion, I waited the revelation of my immediate destiny, 
there flitted a figure across the water. It was there 
only for the breathing of a second, and as it passed, 
it mocked me.' Here Mrs. Lorraine writhed in 
Vivian's arms ; her features were moulded in the 
same unnatural expression as when he first entered 
the gallery, and the hideous grin was again sculptured 
on her countenance. Her whole frame was in such 
a state of agitation, that she rose up and down in 
Vivian's arms ; and it was only with the exertion of 
his whole strength, that he could retain her. 

' Why, Amalia this this was nothing your 
own figure.' 

' No, not my own it was yours \ ' 

Uttering a loud and piercing shriek, which echoed 
through the winding gallery, she fainted. 

Vivian gazed on her in a state of momentary 
stupefaction, for the extraordinary scene had begun 
to influence his own nerves. And now he heard the 
tread of distant feet, and a light shone through the 
key-hole of the nearest door. The fearful shriek 
had alarmed some of the household. What was to 
be done ? In desperation Vivian caught the lady up 
in his arms, and dashing out of an opposite door 

bore her to her chamber. 



WHAT is this chapter to be about ? Come, I'm in- 
clined to be courteous ! You shall choose the subject 


of it. What shall it be sentiment or scandal ? a 
love scene, or a lay-sermon or a lecture on omel- 
ettes soufflees ? I am sick of the world ! Don't be 
frightened, sweet reader ! and Pearson, bring me a 
bottle of soda-water ! I am sick of the world, and 
actually am now hesitating whether I shall turn mis- 
anthrope, or go to the Ancient Music. Not that 
you are to imagine that I am a dissatisfied, disap- 
pointed, moody monster, who lectures the stars, and 
fancies himself Rousseau secundus not in the least. 
I am naturally a very amiable individual ; but the 
truth is, I have been suffering the last three weeks 
under a tremendous attack of bile, and if I chance to 
touch a quill in this miserable state, why unfortun- 
ately, I have the habit of discharging a little of that 
ever-to-be abhorred juice. This, therefore, must be 
my excuse for occasionally appearing to be a little 
peevish. Far from disliking the world, I am always 
ready to do its merits the most poetical justice. Oh ! 
thou beautiful world ! thou art a very pleasant thing 
to those who know thee not. Pah ! I can't get 
on : and now, on looking in the glass again, I do 
find myself a leetle yellow under the eyes still, a 
twitch in the left temple, tongue like snow in a fog, 
a violent nausea, pulse at one hundred and ten, yet 
with the appetite of a Bonassus. Another fit of the 
bile, by all that's sacred Oh ! thou vile world ! now 
for a libel ! 

When Vivian awoke in the morning, he found a 
note upon his pillow. 

' Did you hear the horrid shriek last night ? It 
must have disturbed every one. I think it must 
have been one of the South American birds which 
Captain Tropic gave the Marchioness. Do not they 
sometimes favour the world with these nocturnal 



shriekings ? Isn't there a passage in Spix apropos to 
this ? ' A ' 

' Did you hear the shriek last night, Mr Grey ? ' 
asked the Marchioness, as Vivian entered the break- 

' Oh yes ! Mr. Grey, did you hear the shriek ?' 
asked Miss Graves. 

4 Who didn't ? ' 

* Oh ! what could it be ? ' said the Marchioness. 
' Oh ! what could it be ? ' said Miss Graves. 

* Oh ! what should it be a cat in a gutter, or a 
sick cow, or a toad dying to be devoured, Miss 

Always snub toadeys, and fed captains. It's only 
your greenhorns who endeavour to make their way 
by fawning and cringing to every member of the 
establishment. It is a miserable mistake. No one 
likes his dependants to be treated with respect, for 
such treatment affords an unpleasant contrast to his 
own conduct. Besides, it makes the toadey's blood 
unruly. There are three persons, mind you, to be 
attended to : my lord, or my lady, as the case may 
be (usually the latter), the pet daughter, and the pet 
dog. I throw out these hints en passant, for my 
principal objects in writing this work are to amuse 
myself, and to instruct society. In some future book, 
probably the twentieth or twenty-fifth, when the plot 
begins to wear threadbare, and we can afford a di- 
gression, I may give a chapter on Domestic Tactics. 

* My dear Marchioness,' continued Vivian, * see 
there I've kept my promise there's your bracelet. 
How's Julie to-day ?' 

' Oh ! Julie, poor dear, I hope she's better.' 

* Oh ! yes, poor Julie ! I think she's better.' 

c I don't know that, Miss Graves,' said her Lady- 


ship somewhat tartly, not at all approving of a toadey 
thinking. 'I'm afraid that scream last night must 
have disturbed her. Oh dear ! Mr. Grey, I'm afraid 
she'll be ill again.' 

Miss Graves looked mournful, and lifted up her 
eyes, and hands, to Heaven, but did not dare to 
speak this time. 

* I thought she looked a little heavy about the eyes 
this morning,' said the Marchioness, apparently very 
agitated ; ' and I've heard from Eglamour this post ; 
he's not well too I think everybody's ill now he's 
caught a fever going to see the ruins of Paestum : I 
wonder why people go to see ruins ! ' 

' I wonder indeed,' said Miss Graves ; ' I never 
could see anything in a ruin.' 

' Oh dear Grey ! ' continued the Marchioness, ' I 
really am afraid Julie's going to be very ill.' 

' Oh ! let Miss Graves pull her tail, and give her 
a little mustard seed ; she'll be better to-morrow.' 

* Well, Graves, mind you do what Mr. Grey tells 

' Oh ! y-e-s, my Lady !' 

' Mrs. Felix Lorraine,' said the Marchioness, as 
that lady entered the room, ' you are late to-day ; I 
always reckon upon you as a supporter of an early 
breakfast at Desir.' 

* Oh ! I've been half round the park.' 

' Did you hear the scream, Mrs. Felix ? ' 

* Do you know what it was. Marchioness ? ' 
4 No do you ? ' 

' Ay ! ay ! see the reward of early rising, and a walk 
before breakfast. It was one of your new American 
birds, and it has half torn down your aviary.' 

* One of the new Americans ! Oh, the naughty 
thing ! and has it broke the new fancy wire-work ? ' 



Here a little odd-looking, snuffy old man, with a 
brown scratch wig, who had been very busily em- 
ployed the whole breakfast-time with a cold game 
pie, the bones of which Vivian observed him most 
scientifically pick and polish, laid down his knife and 
fork, and addressed the Marchioness with an air of 
great interest. 

' Pray, will your Ladyship have the goodness to 
inform me what bird this is ? ' 

The Marchioness looked astounded at any one pre- 
suming to ask her a question ; and then she drawled, 
' Vivian, you know everything tell this gentleman 
what a bird is.' 

Now this gentleman was Mr. Mackaw, the most 
celebrated ornithologist extant, and who had written 
a treatise on Brazilian parroquets in three volumes 
folio. He had arrived late at the Chateau the preced- 
ing night, and, although he had the honour of pre- 
senting his letter of introduction to the Marquess, 
this morning was the first time he had been seen by 
any of the party present, who were of course pro- 
foundly ignorant of his character. 

' Oh ! we were talking of some South American 
bird given to the Marchioness by the famous Captain 
Tropic ; you know him, perhaps, Bolivar's brother- 
in-law, or aid-de-camp, or something of that kind ; 
and which screams so dreadfully at night, that the 
whole family is disturbed. The Chowchowtow it's 
called isn't it, Mrs. Lorraine ? ' 

' The Chowchowtow ! ' said Mr. Mackaw ; * I 
don't know it by that name.' 

' Oh ! don't you ? ' I daresay we shall find an 
account of it in Spix ; however,' said Vivian, rising, 
and taking a volume from the book-case ; ay ! here 
it is I'll read it to you. 

M 177 


' The Chowchowtow is about five feet seven inches 
in length, from the point of the bill, to the extremity 
of the claws. Its plumage is of a dingy, yellowish 
white : its form is elegant, and in its movements, and 
action, a certain pleasing and graceful dignity is ob- 
servable ; but its head is by no means worthy of the 
rest of its frame ; and the expression of its eye is 
indicative of the cunning, and treachery, of its cha- 
racter. The habits of this bird are peculiar : occa- 
sionally most easily domesticated, it is apparently 
sensible of the slightest kindness ; but its regard 
cannot be depended upon, and for the slightest 
inducement, or with the least irritation, it will fly 
at its feeder. At other times, it seeks the most 
perfect solitude, and can only be captured with the 
greatest skill and perseverance. It generally feeds 
three times a-day, but its appetite is not rapacious ; 
it sleeps little ; is usually on the wing at sunrise, and 
proves that it slumbers but little in the night by its 
nocturnal and thrilling shrieks.' 

' What an extraordinary bird ! Is that the bird 
you meant, Mrs. Felix Lorraine ?' 

Mr. Mackaw was extremely restless the whole 
time that Vivian was reading this interesting extract. 
At last, he burst forth with an immense deal of 
science, and a great want of construction a want, 
which scientific men often experience, always ex- 
cepting those mealy-mouthed professeurs who lecture 
' at the Royal,' and get patronized by the blues the 
Lavoisiers of May Fair ! 

* Chowchowtow, my Lady ! five feet seven inches 
high ! Brazilian bird ! When I just remind your 
Ladyship, that the height of the tallest bird to be 
found in Brazil, and in mentioning this fact, I 
mention nothing hypothetical, the tallest bird does 



not stand higher than four feet nine. Chowchow- 
tow ! Dr. Spix is a name accurate traveller don't 
remember the passage most singular bird ! Chow- 
chowtow ! don't know it by that name. Perhaps, 
your Ladyship isn't aware. I think you called 
that gentleman Mr. Grey. Perhaps, Mr. Grey is 
not aware, that I am Mr. Mackaw I arrived here 
late last night whose work in three volumes 
folio, on Brazilian Parroquets, although I had the 
honour of seeing his Lordship is, I trust, a suffi- 
cient evidence that I am not speaking at random 
on this subject ; and consequently, from the lateness 
of the hour, could not have the honour of being 
introduced to your Ladyship.' 

' Mr. Mackaw ! ' thought Vivian. ' The deuce 
you are ! Oh ! why didn't I say a Columbian cas- 
sowary, or a Peruvian penguin, or a Chilian condor, 
or a Guatemalan goose, or a Mexican mastard any 
thing but Brazilian. Oh ! unfortunate Vivian Grey ! ' 

The Marchioness, who was quite overcome with 
this scientific appeal, raised her large, beautiful, sleepy 
eyes, from a delicious compound of French roll and 
new milk, which she was working up in a Sevre 
saucer for Julie ; and then, as usual, looked to 
Vivian for assistance. 

' Grey, dear ! You know every thing. Tell Mr. 
Mackaw about a bird.' 

* Is there any point on which you differ from Spix 
in his account of the Chowchowtow, Mr. Mackaw ?' 

' My dear sir, I don't follow him at all. Dr. Spix 
is a most excellent man ; a most accurate traveller 
quite a name but to be sure, I've only read his 
work in our own tongue ; and I fear from the 
passage you have just quoted five feet seven inches 
high ! in Brazil ! It must be a most imperfect version. 



I say, that four feet nine is the greatest height I know. 
I don't speak without some foundation for my state- 
ment. The only bird I know above that height is 
the Paraguay cassowary ; which, to be sure, is some- 
times found in Brazil. But the description of your 
bird, Mr. Grey, does not answer that at all. I ought 
to know. I do not speak at random. The only 
living specimen of that extraordinary bird, the Para- 
guay cassowary, in this country, is in my possession. 
It was sent me by Bonpland ; and was given to him 
by the dictator of Paraguay himself. I call it, in 
compliment, Doctor Francia. I arrived here so late 
last night only saw his Lordship or I would have 
had it on the lawn this morning.' 

'Oh! then, Mr. Mackaw,' said Vivian, 'that was 
the bird which screamed last night ! ' 

' Oh, yes ! Oh, yes ! Mr. Mackaw,' said Mrs. 
Felix Lorraine. 

' Marchioness ! Marchioness ! ' continued Vivian, 
' it's found out. It's Mr. Mackaw's particular 
friend, his family physician, whom he always travels 
with, that awoke us all last night.' 

'Is he a foreigner ?' asked the Marchioness, 
looking up. 

' My dear Mr. Grey, impossible ! the Doctor 
never screams.' 

* Oh ! Mr. Mackaw, Mr. Mackaw ! ' said Vivian. 

' Oh ! Mr. Mackaw, Mr. Mackaw ! said Mrs. 
Felix Lorraine. 

' I tell you he never screams,' reiterated the man 
of science, ' I tell you he can't scream, he's muzzled.' 

' Oh ! then, it must have been the Chowchowtow.' 

' Yes; I think it must have been the Chowchow- 

' I should very much like to hear Spix's description 



again,' said Mr. Mackaw, ' only I fear it's troubling 
you too much, Mr. Grey.' 

* Read it yourself, my dear Sir,' said Vivian, 
putting the book into his hand, which was the third 
volume of Tremaine. 

Mr. Mackaw looked at the volume, and turned it 
over, and sideways, and upside downwards : the 
brain of a man who has written three folios on 
parroquets is soon puzzled. At first, he thought 
the book was a novel ; but then, an essay on pre- 
destination, under the title of Memoirs of a Man 
of Refinement, rather puzzled him ; then he mis- 
took it for an Oxford reprint of Pearson on the 
Creed ; and then he stumbled on rather a warm 
scene in an old Chateau in the South ot France. 

Before Mr. Mackaw could gain the power of 
speech, the door opened, and entered who? 
Doctor Francia. 

Mr. Mackaw's travelling companion possessed 
the awkward accomplishment of opening doors, 
and now strutted in, in quest of his beloved master. 
Affection for Mr. Mackaw was not, however, the 
only cause which induced this entree. 

The household of Chateau Desir, unused to casso- 
warys, had neglected to supply Dr. Francia with his 
usual breakfast, which consisted of half a dozen 
pounds of rump steaks, a couple of bars of hard 
iron, some pig lead, and brown stout. The con- 
sequence was, the dictator was sadly famished. 

All the ladies screamed ; and then Mrs. Felix 
Lorraine admired the Doctor's violet neck, and the 
Marchioness looked with an anxious eye on Julie, 
and Miss Graves, as in duty bound, with an anxious 
eye on the Marchioness. 

There stood the Doctor, quite still, with his large 


yellow eye fixed on Mr. Mackaw. At length, he 
perceived the cold pasty, and his little black wings 
began to flutter on the surface of his immense body. 
' Che, che, che, che ! ' said the ornithologist, who 
didn't like the symptoms at all : ' Che, che, che, che, 
don't be frightened, ladies ! you see he's muzzled 
che, che, che, che, now, my dear doctor, now, 
now, now, Franky, Franky, Franky, now go away, 
go away, that's a dear doctor che, che, che, che ! ' 

But the large yellow eye grew more flaming and 
fiery, and the little black wings grew larger, and 
larger ; and now the left leg was dashed to and fro, 
with a fearful agitation. Mackaw looked agonized. 
Pop ! what a whirr ! Francia is on the table ! 
All shriek, the chairs tumble over the Ottomans 
the Sevre china is in a thousand pieces the muzzle 
is torn off and thrown at Miss Graves ; Mackaw's 
wig is dashed in the clotted cream, and devoured on 
the spot ; and the contents of the boiling urn are 
poured over the beauteous and beloved Julie ! 



MR. COLBURN insists, that this is the only title, 
under which I can possibly publish the letters, which 

Vivian Grey received on the day of , 18 . 

I love to be particular in dates. 

The Honourable Miss Cynthia Courtown, to 
Vivian Grey, Esq. 

'DEAR GREY, Alburies, Oct. 18 

* We have now been at Alburies for a fortnight. 
Nothing can be more delightful. Here is every 
body in the world that I wish to see, except your- 



self. The Knightons, with as many outriders as 
usual : Lady Julia and myself are great allies ; I 
like her amazingly. The Marquess of Grandgout 
arrived here last week, with a most delicious party ; 
all the men who write John Bull. I was rather 
disappointed at the first sight of Stanislaus Hoax. 
I had expected, I don't know why, something 
juvenile, and squibbish when lo ! I was introduced 
to a corpulent individual, with his coat buttoned up 
to his chin, looking dull, gentlemanly, and apoplectic. 
However, on acquaintance, he came out quite rich 
sings delightfully, and improvises like a prophet 
ten thousand times more entertaining than Pistrucci. 
We are sworn friends ; and I know all the secret 
history of John Bull. There is not much, to be 
sure, that you didn't tell me yojirself; but still 
there are some things. I must not trust them, how- 
ever, to paper, and therefore pray dash down to 
Alburies immediately ; I shall be most happy to 
introduce you to Lord Devildrain. There was an 
interview. What think you of that ? Stanislaus 
told me all, circumstantially \ and after dinner I don't 
doubt that it's quite true. W T hat would you give 
for the secret history of the " rather yellow, rather 
yellow," chanson. I dare not tell it you. It came 
from a quarter that will quite astound you, and in 
a very elegant, small, female hand. You remember 
Lambton did stir very awkwardly in the Lisbon 
business. Stanislaus wrote all the songs that ap- 
peared in the first numbers, except that ; but he 
never wrote a single line of prose for the first three 
months : it all came from Vivida Vis. 

' I like the Marquess of Grandgoiit so much ! 
I hope he'll be elevated in the peerage : he looks 
as if he wanted it so ! Poor dear man ! 



' Oh ! do you know I've discovered a liaison 
between Bull, and Blackwood. I'm to be in the 
next Noctes ; I forget the words of the chorus 
exactly, but Courtown is to rhyme with port down^ 
or something of that kind, and then they're to dash 
their glasses over their heads, give three cheers, and 
adjourn to whiskey-toddy, and the Chaldee charnber. 
How delightful ! 

' The Prima Donnas are at Cheltenham, looking 
most respectable. Do you ever see the Age ? It is 
not proper for me to take it in. Pray send me down 
your numbers, and tell me all about it ; that's a dear. 
Is it true that his Lordship paragraphises a little ? 

' I have not heard from Ernest Clay, which I think 
very odd. If you write to him, mention this, and 
tell him to send me word how Dormer Stanhope 
behaves at mess. I understand there has been a 
metie, not much merely a rouette : do get it all out 
of him. 

' Colonel Delmington is at Cheltenham, with the 
most knowing beard you can possibly conceive : Lady 
Julia rather patronizes him. Lady Doubtful has been 
turned out of the rooms ; fifty challenges in conse- 
quence, and one duel ; missed fire, of course. 

' I heard from Alhambra ; he has been wandering 
about in all directions. He has been to the Lakes, 
and is now at Edinburgh. He likes Southey. He 
gave the laureate a quantity of hints for his next 
volume of the Peninsular War, but does not speak 
very warmly of Wordsworth : gentlemanly man, but 
only reads his own poetry. I made him promise to 
go and see De Quincy ; and, like a good boy he did ; 
but he says he 's a complete humbug. What can he 
mean ? He stayed some days at Sir Walter's, and 
met Torn Moore. Singular, that our three great 



poets should be together this summer ! He speaks 
in raptures of the great Baronet, and of the beauties 
of Abbotsford. He met Moore again in Edinburgh, 
and was present at the interview between him and 
Hogg. Lalla Rookh did not much like being called 
" Tam Muir," and rather kicked at the shepherd. 

' Edinburgh is more delightful than you can pos- 
sibly conceive. I certainly intend to go next summer. 
Alhambra is very intimate with John Wilson, who 
seems indeed a first rate fellow, full of fun and 
genius ; and quite as brilliant a hand at a comic song, 
as at a tragic drama. Do you know it struck me 
the other day, that comic songs and tragedies are 
" the lights and shadows " of literature. Pretty idea, 
is it not ? 

' Here has been a cousin of yours about us ; a 
young barrister going the circuit ; by name, Har- 
grave Grey. The name attracted my notice, and 
due enquiries having been made, and satisfactorily 
answered, I patronised the limb of law. Fortunate 
for him ! I got him to all the fancy balls and pic 
nics that were going on. He was in heaven for a 
fortnight, and at length, having overstaid his time, 
he left us, also leaving his bag, and only brief behind 
him. They say he's ruined for life. Write soon. 

' Your's ever, 

Ernest Clay, Esq., to Vivian Grey, Esq. 

October, 18 


' I am sick of key-bugles and country balls ! All 
the girls in the town are in love with me or my 
foraging cap. I am very much obliged to you for 
your letter to Kennet, which procured every thing I 



wanted. The family turned out bores, as you had 
prepared me. I never met such a clever family in 
my life ; the father is summoning up courage to 
favour the world with a volume of sermons ; both 
the sons have had sonnets refused by the London 
magazines ; and Isabella Ken net most satisfactorily 
proved to me, after an argument of two hours, which 
for courtesy's sake, I fought very manfully, that Sir 
Walter Scott was not the author of Waverley ; and 
then she vowed, as I have heard fifty other young 
literary ladies vow before, that she had " seen the 
Antiquary in manuscript." 

' There has been a slight row to diversify the 
monotony of our military life. Young Premium, 
the son of the celebrated loan-monger, has bought 
in ; and Dormer Stanhope, and one or two others 
equally fresh, immediately anticipated another Battier 
business : but, with the greatest desire to make a fool 
of myself, I have a natural repugnance to mimicking 
the foolery of others ; so with some little exertion, 
and very fortunately fqr young Premium, I got the 
tenth voted vulgar, on the score of curiosity, and we 
were civil to the man. As it turned out, it was all 
very well, for Premium is a quiet gentlemanly fellow 
enough, and exceedingly useful. He'll keep extra 
grooms for the whole mess, if they want it. He's 
very grateful to me for what does not deserve any 
gratitude, and for what gave me no trouble ; for I 
did not defend him from any feeling of kindness. 
And both the Monteneys, and young Stapylton Toad, 
and Augustus, being in the regiment, why, I've very 
little trouble in commanding a majority, if it comes 
to a division. 

' I dined the other day at old Premium's, who lives 
near this town in a magnificent old hall ; which, how- 



ever, is not near splendid enough, for a man who is 
the creditor of every nation from California, to 
China ; and, consequently, the great Mr. Stucco is 
building a plaster castle for him in another part of 
the park. Glad am I enough, that I was prevailed 
upon to patronize the Premium ; for I think, I never 
witnessed a more singular scene than I did the day I 
dined there. 

' I was ushered through an actual street of servitors, 
whose liveries were really cloth of gold, and whose 
elaborately powdered heads would not have disgraced 
the most ancient mansion in St. James's Square, into 
a large and very crowded saloon. I was, of course, 
received with the most miraculous consideration ; and 
the ear of Mrs. Premium seemed to dwell upon the 
jingling of my spurs (for I am adjutant), as upon the 
most exquisite music. It was bona fide evidence of 
" the officers being there." She'll now be visited by 
the whole county. 

' Premium is a short, but by no means vulgar look- 
ing man, about fifty, with a high forehead covered 
with wrinkles, and with eyes deep sunk in his head. 
I never met a man of apparently less bustle, and of a 
cooler temperament. He was an object of observa- 
tion from his very unobtrusiveness. There were, I 
immediately perceived, a great number of foreigners 
in the room. They looked much too knowing for 
Arguelles and Co., and I soon found that they were 
members of the different embassies, or missions of 
the various Governments, to whose infant existence 
Premium is foster-father. There were two very 
striking figures in Oriental costume, who were shown 
to me as the Greek Deputies not that you are to 
imagine that they always appear in this picturesque 
dress. It was only as a particular favour, and to 



please Miss Premium ; there, Grey, my boy ! there's 
a quarry ! that the illustrious envoys appeared, 
habited, this day in their national costume. 

' Oh ! Grey, you would have enjoyed the scene. 
In one part of the room was a naval officer, just hot 
from the mines of Mexico, and lecturing eloquently 
on the passing of the Cordillera. In another was a 
man of science, dilating on the miraculous powers of 
a newly-discovered amalgamation process, to a knot 
of merchants, who, with bent brows and eager eyes, 
were already forming a Company for its adoption, 
Here floated the latest anecdote of Bolivar ; and there 
a murmur of some new movement of Cochrane's. 
And then the perpetual babble about " rising states," 
and " new loans," and " enlightened views," and 
"juncture of the two oceans," and "liberal principles," 
and "steam boats to Mexico;" and the earnest look 
which every one had in the room. Oh ! how 
different to the vacant gaze that we have been 
accustomed to ! I was really particularly struck by 
this circumstance. Every one at Premium's looked 
full of some great plan ; as if the fate of empires was 
on his very breath. I hardly knew whether they 
were most like conspirators, or gamblers, or the lions 
of a public dinner, conscious of an universal gaze, 
and consequently looking proportionately interesting. 
One circumstance particularly struck me : as I was 
watching the acute countenance of an individual, 
who, young Premium informed me, was the Chilian 
minister, and who was listening with great attention 
to a dissertation from Captain Tropic, the celebrated 
traveller, on the feasibility of a rail road over the 
Andes I observed a very great sensation among all 
those around me : every one shifting, and shuffling, 
and staring, and assisting in that curious, and confus- 



ing ceremony, called making way. Even Premium 
appeared a little excited, when he came forward with 
a smile on his face to receive an individual, apparently 
a foreigner, and who stepped on with great, though 
gracious dignity. Being very curious to know who 
this great man was, I found that this was an am- 
bassador the representative of a recognised state. 

* 'Pon my honour, when I saw all this, I could not 
refrain from moralizing on the magic of wealth, and 
when I just remember the embryo plot of some 
young Huzzar Officers to cut the son of the magician, 
I rather smiled ; but while I, with even greater 
reverence than all others, was making my way for his 
Excellency, I observed Mrs. Premium looking at my 
spurs " Farewell Philosophy ! " thought I, " Puppy- 
ism for ever ! " 

* Dinner was at last announced, and the nice 
etiquette which was observed between recognised 
states, and non-recognised states, was really excessively 
amusing : not only the ambassador would take 
precedence of the mere political agent, but his 
Excellency's private secretary was equally tenacious 
as to the agent's private secretary. At length we 
were all seated : the spacious dining-room was 
hung round with portraits of most of the successful 
revolutionary leaders, and over Mr. Premium was 
suspended a magnificent portrait of Bolivar. Oh ! 
Grey, if you could but have seen the plate ! By 
Jove ! I have eaten off the silver of most of the first 
families in England, yet, never in my life, did it enter 
into my imagination, that it was possible for the most 
ingenious artist that ever existed, to repeat a crest 
half so often in a table spoon, as in that of Premium. 
The crest is a bubble, and really the effect produced 
by it is most ludicrous. 



' I was very much struck at table, by the appearance 
of an individual who came in very late, but who was 
evidently, by his bearing, no insignificant personage. 
He was a tall man, with a long hooked nose, and 
high cheek bones, and with an eye (were you ever 
at the Old Bailey ? there you may see its fellow) ; 
his complexion looked as if it had been accustomed 
to the breezes of many climes, and his hair, which 
had once been red, was now silvered, or rather iron- 
greyed, not by age. Yet there was in his whole 
bearing, in his slightest actions, even in the easy, 
desperate, air with which he took a glass of wine, an 
indefinable something, (you know what I mean,) 
which attracted your unremitting attention to him. 
I was not wrong in my suspicions of his celebrity ; 
for, as Miss Premium, whom I sat next to, (eh ! 
Grey, my boy, how are you ? " 'tis a very fine thing 
for a father-in-law," &c. &c.) whispered, " he was 
quite a lion." It was Lord Ocean ville. What he is 
after, no one knows. Some say he's going to Greece, 
others whisper an invasion of Paraguay, and others of 
course say other things ; perhaps equally correct. I 
think he's for Greece. I know he's the most extra- 
ordinary man I ever met with. I'm getting prosy. 
Good bye ! Write soon. Any fun going on ? How 
is Cynthia ? I ought to have written. How's Mrs. 

Felix Lorraine ? she's a d d odd woman ! 

' Your's faithfully, 


Mr. Daniel Groves, to Vivian Grey, Esq. 

4 SIR, 

' I have just seen Sir Hanway, who gave me a 
letter from you, requesting me to furnish you with 
my ideas on the state of the agricultural interest; 



and to think of John Conyers for the farm of Mares- 
field, now vacant. 

' With respect to the former, I can't help thinking 
Ministers remarkable wrong on the point of the 
game laws particularly, to say nothing of the duty 
on felled timber, malt, and brown mustard. 'Tayn't 
the greatness of the duty that makes the increase of 
the revenue. That's my maxim. 

' As for Maresfield, I certainly had an eye to it 
for my second son, William, as my mistress says, 
he's now getting fittish to look out for himself in the 
world ; and then there's my nephew at Edgecombe, 
the son of my sister Mary, who married one of the 
Wrights at Upton, and I always promised old Mr. 
Wright to see Tom well done by. That's the 
ground I stand upon. But, certainly, to oblige 
your honour, I can't say but what I'll think of it. 

* Sir Hanway says, Conyers told him that White- 
footed Moll died on Wednesday. She was, as your 
honour always said, a pretty creature. Talking of 
this, puts me in mind, that if your honour comes in 
for Mounteney, which they're talking of in these 
parts, I hope you'll say something about the tax on 
cart-horses. This is the ground I stand upon if a 
gentleman keeps a horse for pleasure, it's only right 
Government should have the benefit ; but when it's 
to promote the agricultural interest, my maxim is, 
it's remarkable wrong to tax them all promiscuous. 

' As for Conyers, I can't help thinking his cottage 
might be removed : it stands in the midst of one of 
the finest pieces of corn-land in this country ; and I 
said so the other day to Mr. Stapylton Toad, but 
he's not a man as'll take advice. That Maresfield 
Farm is a nice bit for game, as I believe your honour 
well knows. I took out Snowball, and Negro, the 



other morning, with young Fletcher of Upton he's 
the third cousin of old Mrs. Wright's sister-in-law's 
niece we coursed three hares, and killed one just 
opposite Gunter's on the hill, who's a bit of a relation 
again on my wife's side ; so I just looked in and took a 
crust of bread and cheese, for civility costs nothing 
that's my maxim. 

' The new Beer bill is felt a grievance. John 
Sandys says as my men won't be satisfied with less 
than ten strike to the hogshead ; this is remarkable 
wrong. So you may make your mind easy about 
John Conyers : I've been talking to my mistress, and 
the upshot of it is, that I'll take my old horse and 
ride over to Stapylton Toad, and settle with him 
about the removal ; and if I can give you any more 
information on this point, or any thing else relating 
to our part of the world, or the corn-laws in general, 
I shall be very happy to remain 

f Your honour's obedient servant, 


<P.S. The half pipe of Port wine I told you of is 
come in, and I think it promises to be as good, 
sterling, stuff as ever you need wish to taste some 
body in it none of your French vinegary slip-slop. 
Depend on't, Port's the wine for Englishmen there's 
some stamina in it : that's the ground I stand upon.' 

Hargrave Grey, Esq., to Vivian Grey, Esq. 

October , 1 8 


* You ought not to expect a letter from me. I 
cannot conceive why you do not occasionally answer 
your correspondents' letters, if correspondents they 
may be called. It is really a most unreasonable habit 
of yours; any one but myself would quarrel with you. 



' A letter from Baker met me at this place, and I 
find that the whole of that most disagreeable, and 
annoying, business is arranged. From the prompti- 
tude, skill, and energy, which are apparent in the 
whole affair, I suspect I have to thank the very 
gentleman, whom I was just going to quarrel with. 
You're a good fellow, Vivian, after all. For want of 
a brief, I sit down to give you a sketch of my adven- 
tures on this, my first, circuit. 

* This circuit is a cold, and mercantile adventure, 
and I'm disappointed in it. Not so either, for I 
looked for but little to enjoy. Take one day of my 
life as a specimen ; the rest are mostly alike. The 
sheriff's trumpets are playing, one, some tune of 
which I know nothing, and the other no tune at all. 
I'm obliged to turn out at eight. It is the first day 
of the Assize, so there is some chance of a brief, 
being a new place. I push my way into court 
through files of attorneys, as civil to the rogues as 
possible, assuring them there is plenty of room, 
though I am at the very moment gasping for breath, 
wedged in, in a lane of well-lined waistcoats. I get 
into court, take my place in the quietest corner, and 
there I sit, and pass other men's fees and briefs like 
a twopenny postman, only without pay. Well ! 'tis 
six o'clock dinner-time at the bottom of the table 
carve for all speak to none nobody speaks 
to me must wait till last to sum up, and pay the 
bill. Reach home quite devoured by spleen, after 
havhig heard every one abused, who happened to be 

' You wished me many briefs, but only one of 

your wishes has come to pass, and that at this place ; 

but I flatter myself I got up the law of the case in a 

most masterly style ; and I am sure you will allow 

N 193 


me to be capable of so doing, when I relate the 
particulars : 

' Indictment states, that prisoner on, &c., at, &c., 
from out of a certain larder, stole a pork pie. 

' 2d. count a meat pie. 

* 3d. count a pie in general. 

* The great question was, whether the offence was 
complete or not, the felon not having carried it out 
of the larder, but only conveyed it into his own 
pocket : that is, all he could not eat. 

* Plea : he was hungry. 

' Per Bolter Baron. " He must not satisfy his 
appetite at another person's expense ; so let him be 
whipped, and discharged ; and let the treasurer of 
the county pay the expenses of this prosecution." 
Which were accordingly allowed, to the amount of 
something under fifty pounds. 

' Don't turn up the whites of your eyes, Vivian ; 
and, in the fulness of your indignation, threaten us 
with all the horrors of parliamentary interference. 
The fact is ; on this circuit, to judge of the number 
of offences tried, such a theft is as enormous as a 
burglary, with one or two throats cut, in London ; 
for pork pies are the staple of the county ; and they 
export them by canal, to all parts of the world, 
whereto the canals run, which the natives imagine to 
be to parts beyond seas at least. 

' I travelled to this place with Manners, whom I 
believe you know, and amused myself by getting 
from him an account of my fellows, anticipating, at 
the same time, what in fact happened ; to wit, that 
I should afterwards get his character from them. It 
is strange how freely they deal with each other 
that is, the person spoken of being away. I would 
not have had you see our Stanhope for half a hundred 



pounds ; your jealousy would have been so excited. 
To say the truth, we are a little rough our mane 
wants pulling, and our hoofs trimming, but we jog 
along without performing either operation : and, by 
dint of rattling the whip against the splash-board, 
using all one's persuasion of hand and voice, and 
jerking the bit in his mouth, we do contrive to get 
into the circuit town, usually, just about the time 
that the sheriff and his posse comitatus are starting to 
meet my Lord, the King's Justice : and that is the 
worst of it ; for their horses are prancing and pawing 
coursers just out of the stable, sleek skins, and 
smart drivers. We begin to be knocked up just 
then, and our appearance is the least brilliant of any 
part of the day. Here I had to pass through a host 
of these powdered, scented fops; and the multitude 
who had assembled to gaze on the nobler exhibi- 
tion, rather scoffed at our humble vehicle. As 
Manners had just then been set down to find the 
inn, and lodging, I could not jump out, and leave 
our equipage to its fate, so I settled my cravat, and 
seemed not to mind it only I did. 

' Manners has just come in, and insists upon my 
going to the theatre with him. I shall keep this 
back another post, to tell you whether I receive 
another letter from Baker, at d. 

I 9 th. 

.?'jiL ; '" ..'"') y 

' No letter from Baker, but I find it so dull sitting 
in court with nothing to do, that I shall trouble you 
with a few more lines from myself. The perform- 
ance last night was rather amusing: Romeo and 
Juliet turned into a melo-drame, to suit the taste of 
the vicinity. The nasal tones of Juliet's voice in the 
love-scenes, must have been peculiarly moving to any 


Romeo, but to that for whom they were intended 
they seemed so much in earnest, that he must have 
been quite enraptured. There were no half meet- 
ings. Juliet entered fully into the feeling of the 
poet ; and hung about his neck, and kissed his lips 
all like life, to the great edification of the audience 
assembled ; which, as it was assize week, was a very 
brilliant one. In such a company, there must neces- 
sarily be economy used in the actors and actresses. 
Thus, as Mercutio is killed off in the first act, he 
afterwards performs the Friar, and the Friar himself 
figures as the chief dancer in the masquerade : but I 
was most charmed at discovering Juliet's nasal tones 
in her own dirge a wonderful idea, never before 
introduced on any stage. I was led to make this 
discovery, not merely by the fact of her voice being 
undisguised, but from an unfortunate accident which 
occurred at the funeral. As the deceased heroine 
was a chief mourner, her beloved corpse had to be 
performed by a bundle of rags, or something of the 
kind, laid upon a sort of school form, and carried by 
herself and five other ladies in white : so, as the 
music was rather quick, and the mourners had to 
perform pas de zephyr all round the stage, and Juliet 
did not keep very good time, while the virgins on 
one side were standing on their left legs towards the 
audience, as nearly in a horizontal posture as possible; 
the daughter of Capulet, and her battalion, began 
performing on the wrong leg, and in the consequent 
scuffle, the bier overturned ! The accident, however, 
was speedily rectified, and the procession moved on 
to the music of two fiddles and one bell. Juliet's 
tomb was a snug little parlour with blue pannels, 
and Romeo drank gin instead of poison, which Shak- 
speare must have surely intended, or else it was quite 


out of nature to make Juliet exclaim, " What, churl ! 
not left one drop ?" 

' But I must leave off this nonsense, and attend to 
his Lordship's charge, which is now about to com- 
mence. I have not been able to get you a single 
good murder, although I have kept a sharp look out 
as you desired me; but there is a chance of a first- 
rate one at n. 

' I am quite delighted with Mr. Justice St. Prose. 
He is at this moment in a most entertaining passion, 
preparatory to a " conscientious " summing up ; and 
in order that his ideas may not be disturbed, he has 
very liberally ordered the door-keeper to have the 
door oiled immediately, at his own expence. Now for 
my Lord, the King's justice. 

' " Gentlemen of the Jury ! " 

' " The noise is insufferable the heat is intolerable 
the door-keepers let the people keep shuffling in 
the ducks in the corner are going quack, quack, 
quack here's a little girl being tried for her life, and 
the judge can't hear a word that's said. Bring me my 
black cap, and I'll condemn her to death instantly." 

* " You can't, my Lord," shrieks the infant sinner; 
" it's only for petty larceny ! " 

' This is agreeable, is it not ? but let us see what 
the next trial will produce : this was an action of 
trespass, for breaking off the pump handle, knocking 
down the back kitchen door, spitting on the parlour 
carpet, and tumbling the maid's head about. 

' Plea. That the defendants, eight in number, 
entered in aid of the constable, under warrant of a 
magistrate, to search for stolen goods. 

'John Staff, examined by Mr Shuffleton. 

' " Well, Mr. Constable, what have you to say 
about this affair ?" 



* " Why, Sir, I charged them men to assist me in 
the King's name." 

' " What, eight of you ? why, there was only an 
old woman, and a boy, and the servant girl in the 
house. You must have been terribly frightened at 
them, eh ?" 

* " Can't say for that, Sir, only they was needful." 

* " Why, what could you want so many for ? " 

* " Why, you see, Sir, I couldn't read the warrant 
myself, so I charged Abraham Lockit to read it for 
me ; and when he came, he said as it was Squire 
Jobson's writing, and so he could not ; and then I 
had occasion to charge Simon Lockit, and he read 

' " Well, that's only two : what were the rest 

' " Why, your honour, they was to keep the 
women quiet." 

' Mr. Justice St. Prose. " Take care what you're 
about, witness. I consider it my duty to advise you 
not to laugh ; it is, in my opinion, a contempt of 
court, and I therefore desire you to restrain your- 

* Mr. Shuffleton. " But you haven't told me 
why you wanted these other six men ? " 

' " Why, the women d'ye see, Sir, was so very 
unruly in the kitchen ; and so I charged them to 
keep 'em quiet." 

' " Now, Sir, what do you call keeping the women 
quiet, pulling the maid's cap off, and ?" 

* Mr. Justice St. Prose. (To a person opposite.) 
" You'll excuse me, Sir, but I think that those two 
little gentlemen had better leave the court till this 
examination is over." 

' His Lordship " thought it his duty " to give 



a similar warning to two very pretty young ladies 
in pink bonnets and green pelisses. They were, 
however, so obstinate as to remain in court, until 
they had heard the whole circumstantial, and im- 
proper, evidence of the destruction of the maid's 
cap. When it was all over, his Lordship once more 
fixed his large eyes on the constable, and thus de- 
livered himself: 

' " Now, Mr. Constable, to remove the sting of 
any remark which may have dropped from me 
during this trial, I will allow that, very probably, 
you had reason to laugh." Mr. Constable looked 
quite relieved. 

' By way of variety, I will give you a specimen 
of his Lordship's style of cross examination. 

' Enter a witness, with a flourishing pair of whis- 
kers, approximating to a King Charles. 

' Mr. Justice St. Prose. " Pray, Sir, who are 

' Whiskered Witness. " An architect, my Lord." 
' Mr. J. St. Prose. "An architect ! Sir ; are you 
not in the army ?" 

' W. W. (agitated). " No, my Lord." 
'Mr. J. St. Prose. "Never were?" 
' W. W. (much browbeat,) " No, my Lord." 
' Mr. J. St. Prose. " Then, Sir, what right have 
you to wear those whiskers ? I consider that you 
can't be a respectable young man, and I shan't 
allow you your expenses." 

' I have just got an invite from the Kearneys. 
Congratulate me. 

' Dear Vivian, yours faithfully, 




Lady Scrope to Vivian Grey, Esq. 

Ormsby Park, Oct. , 18 


' By desire of Sir Berdmore, (is not this pretty and 
proper ?) I have to request the fulfilment of a pro- 
mise, upon the hope of which being performed, I 
have existed through this dull month. Pray, my 
dear Vivian, come to us immediately. Ormsby has 
at present little to offer for your entertainment. 
We have had that unendurable bore, Vivacity Dull, 
with us for a whole fortnight. A report of the 
death of the Lord Chancellor, or a rumour of the 
production of a new tragedy, has carried him up to 
town ; but whether it be to ask for the seals, or 
to indite an ingenious prologue to a play which 
will be condemned the first night, I cannot inform 
you. I am quite sure he is capable of doing 
either. However, we shall have other deer in a 
few days. 

* I believe you have never met the Moun- 
teneys no, I'm sure you have not. They have 
never been at Hallesbrooke, since you have been at 
Desir. They are coming to us immediately. I am 
sure you will like them very much. Lord Moun- 
teney is one of those kind, easy-minded, accom- 
plished men, who, after all, are nearly the pleasant- 
est society one ever meets. Rather wild in his 
youth, but with his estate now unincumbered, and 
himself perfectly domestic. His lady is an unaffected, 
agreeable woman. But it is Caroline Mounteney 
whom I wish you particularly to meet. She is one 
of those delicious creatures who, in spite of not 
being married, are actually conversable. Spirited, 
without any affectation or brusquerie ; beautiful, and 



knowing enough to be quite conscious of it ; and 
perfectly accomplished, and yet never annoying you 
with tattle about Bochsa, and Ronzi de Begnis, and 

* We also expect the Delmonts, the most endur- 
able of the Anglo-Italians that I know. Mrs Del- 
mont is not always dropping her handkerchief like 
Lady Gusto, as if she expected a miserable cavalier 
seruente to be constantly upon his knees, or giving 
those odious expressive looks which quite destroy 
my nerves whenever I am under the same roof as 
that horrible Lady Soprano. There is a little too 
much talk, to be sure, about Roman churches, and 
newly-discovered Mosaics, and Abbate Maii, but 
still we cannot expect perfection. There are re- 
ports going about that Ernest Clay is either ruined, 
going to be married, or about to write a novel. 
Perhaps all are true. Young Premium has nearly 
lost his character by driving a square-built, striped 
green thing drawn by one horse. Ernest Clay got 
him through this terrible affair. What can be the 
reasons of the Sieur Ernest's excessive amiability ? 

* Both the young Mounteneys are with their 
regiment, but Aubrey Vere is coming to us, and I've 

half a promise from ; but I know you never 

speak to unmarried men, so why do I mention them ? 
Let me, I beseech you, my dear Vivian, have a few 
days of you to myself, before Ormsby is full, and 
before you are introduced to Caroline Mounteney. 
I did not think it was possible that I could exist so 
long without seeing you ; but you really must not 
try me too much, or I shall quarrel with you. I 
have received all your letters, which are very, very 
agreeable ; but I think rather, rather impudent. If 
you don't behave better, I shan't pet you I shan't 



indeed ; so do not put off coming a single moment. 
Adieu ! 


Horace Grey, Esq., to Vivian Grey, Esq. 

Paris, Oct. 18 . 


' I have received your last letter, and have read it 
with mixed feelings of astonishment, and sorrow. 

4 You are now, my dear son, a member of what 
is called, le grand monde society formed on anti- 
social principles. Apparently, you have possessed 
yourself of the object of your wishes ; but the scenes 
you live in 'are very moveable ; the characters you 
associate with are all masked ; and it will always be 
doubtful, whether you can retain that long, which 
has been obtained by some slippery artifice. Vivian, 
you are a juggler ; and the deceptions of your slight- 
of-hand tricks depend upon instantaneous motions. 

4 When the selfish combine with the selfish, be- 
think you how many projects are doomed to dis- 
appointment ! how many cross interests baffle the 
parties, at the same time joined together without 
ever uniting. What a mockery is their love ! but 
how deadly are their hatreds ! All this great society, 
with whom so young an adventurer has trafficked, 
abate nothing of their price in the slavery of their 
service, and the sacrifice of violated feelings. What 
sleepless nights has it cost you to win over the dis- 
obliged, to conciliate the discontented, to cajole the 
contumacious ! You may smile at the hollow flat- 
teries, answering to flatteries as hollow, which, like 
bubbles when they touch, dissolve into nothing : 
but tell me, Vivian, what has the self-tormentor felt 



at the laughing treacheries, which force a man down 
into self-contempt ? 

* Is it not obvious, my dear Vivian, that true 
Fame, and true Happiness, must rest upon the 
imperishable social affections ? I do not mean that 
coterie celebrity, which paltry minds accept as fame, 
but that which exists independent of the opinions, or 
the intrigues of individuals ; nor do I mean that 
glittering show of perpetual converse with the world, 
which some miserable wanderers call Happiness ; but 
that which can only be drawn from the sacred and 
solitary fountain of your own feelings. 

Active as you have now become in the great scenes 
of human affairs, I would not have you be guided by 
any fanciful theories of morals, or of human nature. 
Philosophers have amused themselves by deciding on 
human actions by systems ; but, as these systems are 
of the most opposite natures, it is evident that each 
philosopher, in reflecting his own feelings in the 
system he has so elaborately formed, has only 
painted his own character. 

' Do not, therefore, conclude with Hobbes and 
Mandeville, that man lives in a state of civil warfare 
with man ; nor with Shaftesbury, adorn with a poeti- 
cal philosophy our natural feelings. Man is neither 
the vile, nor the excellent being which he sometimes 
imagines himself to be. He does not so much act 
by system, as by sympathy. If this creature cannot 
always feel for others, he is doomed to feel for him- 
self; and the vicious are, at least, blessed with the 
curse of remorse. 

' You are now inspecting one of the worst portions 
of society, in what is called the great world ; (St. 
Giles' is bad, but of another kind ;) and it may be 
useful, on the principle, that the actual sight of brutal 



ebriety was supposed to have inspired youth with the 
virtue of temperance ; on the same principle, that 
the Platonist, in the study of deformity, conceived 
the beautiful. Let me warn you not to fall into the 
usual error of youth, in fancying that the circle you 
move in is precisely the world itself. Do not imagine 
that there are not other beings, whose benevolent 
principle is governed by finer sympathies ; by more 
generous passions ; and by those nobler emotions, 
which really constitute all our public and private 
virtues. I give you this hint, lest, in your present 
society, you might suppose these virtues were merely 

* Once more, I must beseech you, not to give 
loose to any elation of mind. The machinery by 
which you have attained this unnatural result, must 
be so complicated, that in the very tenth hour, you 
will find yourself stopped in some part where you 
never counted on an impediment ; and the want of a 
slight screw, or a little oil, will prevent you from 
accomplishing your magnificent end. 

' We are, and have been, very dull here. There 
is every probability of Madam de Genlis writing 
more volumes than ever. I called on the old lady, 
and was quite amused with the enthusiasm of her 
imbecility. Chateaubriand is getting what you call 
a bore ; and the whole city is mad about a new 
opera by Boieldieu. Your mother sends her love, 
and desires me to say, that the salmi of woodcocks, 
d la Lucullus, which you write about, does not differ 
from the practice here in vogue ; but we have been 
much pleased with ducks, with olive sauce, about 
which she particularly wishes to consult you. How 
does your cousin Hargrave prosper on his circuit ? 
The Delmingtons are here, which makes it very 



pleasant for your mother, as well as for myself; for 
it allows me to hunt over the old bookshops at my 
leisure. There are no new books worth sending 
you, or they would accompany this ; but I would 
recommend you to get Meyer's new volume from 
Treuttel and Wurtz, and continue to make notes as 
you read it. Give my compliments to the Marquess, 
and believe me 

' Your most affectionate father, 

-ino3 9ri* bypdo t iwi}%? 



IT was impossible for any human being to behave 
with more kindness than the Marquess of Carabas 
did to Vivian Grey, after that young gentleman's 
short conversation with Mrs. Felix Lorraine, in the 
conservatory. The only feeling which seemed to 
actuate the peer, was an eager desire to compensate, 
by his present conduct, for any past misunderstand- 
ing, and he loaded his young friend with all possible 
favour. Still Vivian was about to quit Chateau 
Desir, and in spite of all that had passed, he was 
extremely loth to leave his noble friend under the 
guardianship of his female one. 

About this time, the Duke and Duchess of 
Juggernaut, the very pink of aristocracy, the 
wealthiest, the proudest, the most ancient, and 
most pompous couple in Christendom, honoured 
Chateau Desir with their presence for two days ; 
only two days, making the Marquess's mansion a 
convenient resting-place in one of their princely 
progresses, to one of their princely castles. 

Vivian contrived to gain the heart of her Grace, 


by his minute acquaintance with the Juggernaut 
pedigree ; and having taken the opportunity, in 
one of their conversations, to describe Mrs. Felix 
Lorraine as the most perfect specimen of divine 
creation with which he was acquainted, at the same 
time the most amusing, and the most amiable of 
women, that lady was honoured with an invitation 
to accompany her Grace to HIMALAYA CASTLE. As 
this was the greatest of all possible honours, and as 
Desir was now very dull, Mrs. Felix Lorraine 
accepted the invitation, or rather, obeyed the com- 
mand, for the Marquess would not hear of a refusal, 
Vivian having dilated, in the most energetic terms, 
on the opening which now presented itself of gain- 
ing the Juggernaut. The coast being thus cleared, 
Vivian set off the next day for Sir Berdmore Scrope's. 

n, ' 





THE important time drew nigh. Christmas was to 
be passed by the Carabas family, the Beacon sfields, 
the Scropes, and the Clevelands, at Lord Courtown's 
villa at Richmond ; at which place, on account of its 
vicinity to the Metropolis, the Viscount had determined 
to make out the holidays, notwithstanding the Thames 
entered his kitchen windows, and the Donna del Lago 
was acted in the theatre with real water, Cynthia 
Courtown performing Elena, paddling in a punt. 

'Let us order our horses, Cleveland, round to the 
Piccadilly gate, and walk through the Guards. I 
must stretch my legs. That bore, Horace Button- 
hole, captured me in Pall Mall East, and has kept 
me in the same position for upwards of half an 
hour. I shall make a note to blackball him at the 
Athenaeum. How's Mrs. Cleveland ? ' 

' Extremely well. She goes down to Buckhurst 
Lodge with the Marchioness. Isn't that Lord 
Lowersdale ? ' 

' His very self. He's going to call on Vivida Vis, 
I've no doubt. Lowersdale is a man of very con- 
considerable talent much more than the world 
gives him credit for.' 



' And he doubtless finds a very able counsellor 
in Monsieur le Secretaire ? ' 

' Can you name a better one ? ' 

* You rather patronize Vivida, I think, Grey ? ' 
' Patronize him ! he's my political pet ! ' 

4 And yet Kerrison tells me, you reviewed the 
Suffolk Papers in the Edinburgh.' 

' So I did what of that ? I defended them in 

' This, then, is the usual method of you literary 
gentlemen. Thank God ! I never could write a 

* York House rises proudly if York House be 
its name.' 

'This confounded Catholic Question is likely to 
give us a great deal of trouble, Grey. It's perfect 
madness for us to advocate the cause of the " six 
millions of hereditary bondsmen ; " and yet, with 
not only the Marchese, but even Courtown and 
Beaconsfield committed^ it is, to say the least, a very 
delicate business.' 

' Very delicate, certainly ; but there are some pre- 
cedents, I shrewdly suspect, Cleveland, for the 
influence of a party being opposed to measures, 

which the heads of that party had pledged them- 

i j , > 

selves to adopt. 

'Does old Giffbrd still live at Pimlico, Grey ?*' 

' Still.' 

' He's a splendid fellow, after all.' 

' Certainly, a mind of great powers but bigotted.' 

' Oh ! yes I know exactly what you are going to 
say. It's the fashion, I'm aware, to abuse the old 
gentleman. He's the Earl of Eldon of literature ; 
not the less loved, because a little vilified. But, 
when I just remember what Gifford has done when 



I call to mind the perfect and triumphant success of 
every thing he has undertaken the Anti-Jacobin 
the Baviad and Maeviad the Quarterly all palpable 
hits on the very jugular upon my honour, I hesi- 
tate before I speak of William Giffbrd in any other 
terms, or in any other spirit, than those of admira- 
tion and of gratitude.' 

' And to think, Grey, that the Tory administra- 
tion, and the Tory party of Great Britain, should 
never, by a single act, or in one single instance, have 
indicated, that they were in the least aware, that the 
exertions of such a man differed in the slightest 
degree from those of Hunt and Hone ! Oh ! Grey, 
of all the delusions which flourish in this mad world, 
the delusion of that man is the most frantic, who 
voluntarily, and of his own accord, supports the 
interests of a party. I mention this to you, because 
it is the rock on which all young politicians strike. 
Fortunately, you enter life under different circum- 
stances from those which usually attend most political 
debutants. You have your connexions formed, and 
your views ascertained. But if, by any chance, you 
find yourself independent and unconnected, never, 
for a moment, suppose that you can accomplish your 
objects by coming forward, unsolicited, to fight the 
battle of a party. They will cheer your youthful 
exertions, and then smile at your youthful zeal or, 
crossing themselves for the unexpected succour, be 
too cowardly to reward their unexpected champion. 
No, Grey ; make them fear you, and they will kiss 
your feet. There is no act of treachery, or mean- 
ness, of which a political party is not capable ; for in 
politics there is no honour. 

' As to Gifford, I am surprised at their conduct 
towards him, although I know better than most 
o 309 


men, of what wood a minister is made, and how 
much reliance may be placed upon the gratitude of a 
party : but Canning from Canning I certainly did 
expect different conduct.' 

' Oh, Canning ! I love the man : but, as you 
say, Cleveland, ministers have short memories, and 
Canning's that was Antilles that just passed us, 
apropos to whom, I quite rejoice that the Marquess 
has determined to take such a decided course on the 
West India Question.' 

' Oh, yes ! curse your East India sugar.' 

' To be sure slavery, and sweetmeats, for ever ! ' 

' I was always for the West India interest, from a 
boy, Grey. I had an aunt who was a Creole, and 
who used to stuff me with guava jelly, and small 
delicate limes, that looked, for all the world, like 
emeralds powdered with diamond dust.' 

' Pooh ! my dear Cleveland, they shouldn't have 
looked like any such thing. What your Creole aunt 
gave you must have been candied. The delicate fruit 
should swim in an ocean of clarified sugar.' 

* I believe you're right, Grey : I sacrificed truth to 
a trope. Do you like the Barbados ginger ?' 

' If it is mild, and of a pale golden colour. How 
delicious the Bourdeaux flows after it ! Oh ! the 
West India interest for ever!' 

' But, aside with joking, Grey, I really think, that 
if any man of average ability dare rise in the House, 
and rescue many of the great questions of the day 
from what Dugald Stuart, or D'Israeli would call the 
spirit of Political Religionism, with which they are 
studiously mixed up, he would not fail to make a 
great impression upon the House, and a still greater 
one upon the country.' 

' I quite agree with you ; and certainly I should 



recommend commencing with the West India Ques- 
tion. Singular state of affairs ! when even Canning 
can only insinuate his opinion, when the very exis- 
tence of some of our most valuable colonies is at 
stake, and when even his insinuations are only 
indulged with an audience, on the condition that he 
favours the House with an introductory discourse of 
twenty minutes on " the divine Author of our faith " 
and an eloge of equal length on the esprit du 
Christianisme, in a style worthy of Chateaubriand.' 

' Miserable work, indeed ! I have got a pamphlet 
on the West India Question sent me this morning. 
Do you know any raving lawyer, any mad Master in 
Chancery, or something of the kind, who meddles in 
these affairs ?' 

' Oh ! Stephen ! a puddle in a storm ! He's for a 
crusade for the regeneration of the Antilles the 
most forcible of feebles the most energetic of 
drivellers, Velluti acting Pietro L'Eremita.' 

' Do you know, by any chance, whether Southey's 
Vindiciae is out yet ? I wanted to look it over during 
the holidays.' 

' Not out though it has been advertised some 
time : but what do you expect ? ' 

* Nay ! it's an interesting controversy, as con- 
troversies go. Not exactly Milton, and Salmasius 
but fair enough.' 

' Oh ! I don't know. It has long degenerated into 
a mere personal bickering between the Laureate and 
Butler. Southey is, of course, revelling in the idea 
of writing an English work with a Latin title ; and 
that, perhaps, is the only circumstance for which the 
controversy is prolonged.' 

' But Southey, after all, is a man of splendid 



' Doubtless the most philosophical of bigots, and 
the most poetical of prose writers.' 

' Apropos to the Catholic Question there goes 
Colonial Bother'em, trying to look like Prince 
Metternich ; a decided failure.' 

' What can keep him in town ?' 

' Writing letters, I suppose. Heaven preserve me 
from receiving any of them ! ' 

' Is it true, then, that his letters are of the awful 
length that is whispered ?' 

' True ! Oh ! they're something beyond all concep- 
tion ! Perfect epistolary Boa Constrictors. I speak 
with feeling, for I have myself suffered under their 
voluminous windings.' 

' Have you seen his quarto volume " The Cure 
for the Catholic Question ?" 


' If you have it, lend it to me. What kind of 
thing is it ?' 

' Oh ! what should it be ! ingenious, and imbecile. 
He advises the Catholics, in the old nursery language, 
to behave like good boys to open their mouths, and 
shut their eyes, and see what God will send them.' 

' Well, that's the usual advice. Is there nothing 
more characteristic of the writer ?' 

' What think you of a proposition of making 
Jocky of Norfolk Patriarch of England, and of an 
ascertained credo for our Catholic fellow-subjects ? 
Ingenious isn't it ?' 

' Have you seen Puff's new volume of Ariosto ?' 

* I have. What could possibly have induced Mr. 
Parthenopex Puff to have undertaken such a duty ? 
Mr. Puff is a man destitute of poetical powers ; 
possessing no vigour of language, and gifted with no 
happiness of expression. His translation is hard, 



dry, and husky, as the outside of a cocoa-nut. I am 
amused to see the excellent tact with which the public 
has determined not to read his volumes, in spite of 
the incessent exertions of a certain set to ensure their 
pupularity; but the time has gone by, when the 
smug coterie could create a reputation.' 

* Do you think the time ever existed, Cleveland ? ' 

' What could have seduced Puff into being so 
ambitious ? I suppose his admirable knowledge of 
Italian ; as if a man were entitled to strike a die for 
the new sovereign, merely because he was aware how 
much alloy might legally debase its carats of pure 

' I never can pardon Puff for that little book on 
Cats. The idea was admirable ; but, instead of one 
of the most delightful volumes that ever appeared, 
to take up a dull, tame, compilation from Bingley's 
Animal Biography ! ' 

' Yes ! and the impertinence of dedicating such 
a work to the Officers of His Majesty's Household 
Troops ! Considering the quarter from whence it 
proceeded, I certainly did not expect much, but still 
I thought that there was to be some little esprit. The 
poor Guards ! how nervous they must have been at 
the announcement ! What could have been the 
point of that dedication ? ' 

' I remember a most interminable proser, that was 
blessed with a very sensible-sounding voice, and who, 
on the strength of that, and his correct and constant 
emphases, was considered by the world, for a great 
time, as a sage. At length it was discovered that he 
was quite the reverse. Mr. Puff's wit is very like 
this man's wisdom. You take up one of his little 
books, and you fancy, from its title-page, that it's 
going to be very witty ; as you proceed, you begin to 



suspect that the man is only a wag, and then, sur- 
prised at not " seeing the point," you have a shrewd 
suspicion that he is a great hand at dry humour. It 
is not till you have closed the volume, that you 
wonder who it is, that has had the hardihood to 
intrude such imbecility upon an indulgent world.' 

' Come, come ! Mr. Puff is a worthy gentleman. 
Let him cease to dusk the radiancy of Ariosto's 
sunny stanzas, and I shall be the first man who will 
do justice to his merits. He certainly tattles prettily 
about tenses, and terminations, and is not an inelegant 

' Another failure among the booksellers to-day ! ' 
' Indeed ! Literature, I think, is at a low ebb.' 
' Certainly. There is nothing like a fall of stocks 
to affect what it is the fashion to style the Literature 
of the present day a fungus production, which has 
flourished from the artificial state of our society the 
mere creature of our imaginary wealth. Every body 
being very rich, has afforded to be very literary 
books being considered a luxury almost as elegant 
and necessary as Ottomans, bonbons, and pier-glasses. 
Consols at 100 were the origin of all book societies. 
The Stockbrokers' ladies took off the quarto travels, 
and the hot-pressed poetry. They were the patronesses 
of your patent ink, and your wire wove paper. That 
is all passed. Twenty per cent, difference in the 
value of our public securities from this time last year 
that little incident has done more for the restora- 
tion of the old English feeling, than all the exertions 
of Church and State united. Oh ! there is nothing 
like a fall in Consols to bring the blood of our good 
people of England into cool order. It's your grand 
state medicine your veritable Doctor Sangrado ! 
' A fall in stocks ! and halt ! to " the spread of 



knowledge ! " and " the progress of liberal principles " 
is like that of a man too late for post-horses. A fall 
in stocks ! and where are your London Universities 
and your Mechanics' Institutes, and your new Docks ? 
Where your philosophy, your philanthropy, and your 
competition ? National prejudices revive, as national 
prosperity decreases. If the Consols were at sixty, 
we should be again bellowing, God save the King ! 
eating roast beef and damning the French.' 

' And you imagine literature is equally affected, 

' Clearly. We were literary, because we were rich. 
Amid the myriad of volumes which issued monthly 
from the press, what one was not written- for the 
mere hour ? It is all very well to buy mechanical 
poetry, and historical novels, when our purses have 
a plethora; but now, my dear fellow, depend upon 
it, the game is up. We have no scholars now no 
literary recluses no men who ever appear to think. 
" Scribble, scribble, scribble," as the Duke of Cumber- 
land said to Gibbon, should be the motto of the 
mighty " nineteenth century." 

' Southey, I think, Grey, is an exception.' 

' By no means. Southey is a political writer a 
writer for a particular purpose. All his works, from 
those in three volumes quarto, to those in one duo- 
decimo, are alike political pamphlets. Sharon Turner, 
in his solitude, alone seems to have his eye upon 
Prince Posterity ; but, as might be expected, the 
public consequently has not its eye upon Sharon 
Turner. Twenty years hence they may discover that 
they had a prophet among them, and knew him not.' 

' His history is certainly a splendid work, but little 
known. Lingard's, which in ten years time will not 
be known even by name, sells admirably, I believe.' 



* I was very much amused, Cleveland, with Allen's 
review of Lingard in the Edinburgh. His opinion 
of " the historian's " style that it combined, at the 
same time, the excellencies of Gibbon, and Hume 
was one of the most exquisite specimens of irony 
that, I think, I ever met with : it was worthy of 
former days. I was just going to give up the Edin- 
burgh, when I read that sentence, and I continued it 
in consequence.' 

* We certainly want a master-spirit to set us right, 
Grey. Scott, our second Shakspeare, we, of course, 
cannot expect to step forward to direct the public 
mind. He is too much engaged in delighting it. 
Besides, he is not the man for it. He is not a 
litterateur. We want Byron.' 

' Ah ! there was the man ! And that such a man 
should be lost to us, at the very moment that he had 
begun to discover why it had pleased the Omnipotent 
to have endowed him with such powers ! ' 

' If one thing was more characteristic of Byron's 
mind than another, it was his strong, shrewd, com- 
mon sense his pure, unalloyed sagacity.' 

* You knew the glorious being, I think, Cleve- 
land ? ' 

* Well ; I was slightly acquainted with him, when 
in England ; slightly, however, for I was then very 
young. But many years afterwards I met him in Italy. 
It was at Pisa, just before he left for Genoa. I was 
then very much struck at the alteration in his 

' Indeed ! ' 

* Yes ; his face was very much swollen, and he 
was getting fat. His hair was grey, and his counte- 
nance had lost that spiritual expression which it once 
so eminently possessed. His teeth were decaying ; 



and he said, that if ever he came to England, it would 
be to consult Wayte about them. I certainly was 
very much struck at his alteration for the worse. 
Besides, he was dressed in the most extraordinary 

* Slovenly ? ' 

4 Oh ! no, no, no in the most dandified style that 
you can conceive ; but not that of an English dandy 
either. He had on a magnificent foreign foraging 
cap, which he wore in the room, but his grey curls 
were quite perceptible ; and a frogged surtout ; and 
he had a large gold chain round his neck, and pushed 
into his waistcoat pocket. I imagined, of course, 
that a glass was attached to it : but I afterwards 
found that it bore nothing but a quantity of trinkets. 
He had also another gold chain tight round his neck, 
like a collar.' 

* How extraordinary ! And did you converse 
much with him ? ' 

' I was not long at Pisa, but we never parted, and 
there was only one subject of conversation England, 
England, England. I never met a man in whom 
the maladie du -pays was so strong. Byron was cer- 
tainly at this time restless and discontented. He was 
tired of his dragoon captains, and pensioned poetas- 
ters, and he dared not come back to England with, 
what he considered, a tarnished reputation. His 
only thought was of some desperate exertion to clear 
himself. It was for this he went to Greece. When 
I was with him, he was in correspondence with some 
friends in England, about the purchase of a large 
tract of land in Colombia. He affected a great ad- 
miration of Bolivar.' 

' Who, by the bye, is a great man.' 

' Assuredly.' 



' Your acquaintance with Byron must have been 
one of the most gratifying incidents of your life, 
Cleveland ? ' 

' Certainly ; I may say with Friar Martin, in Goetz 
of Berlichingen, " The sight of him touched my 
heart. It is a pleasure to have seen a great man." 

' Hobhouse was a very faithful friend to him ? ' 

' His conduct has been beautiful and Byron had 
a thorough affection for him in spite of a few squibs, 
and a few drunken speeches, which damned good- 
natured friends have always been careful to repeat.' 

' The loss of Byron can never be retrieved. He 
was indeed a man a real man ; and when I say this, 
I award him, in my opinion, the most splendid 
character which human nature need aspire to. At 
least, I, for my part, have no ambition to be con- 
sidered either a divinity, or an angel ; and truly, 
when I look round upon the creatures alike effemi- 
nate in mind and body, of which the world is, in 
general, composed, I fear that even my ambition is 
too exalted. Byron's mind was like his own ocean 
sublime in its yesty madness beautiful in its glitter- 
ing summer brightness mighty in the lone magni- 
ficence of its waste of waters gazed upon from the 
magic of its own nature, yet capable of representing, 
but, as in a glass darkly, the natures of all others. I 
say, Cleveland, here comes the greatest idiot in town ; 
Craven Bucke. He came to me the other day com- 
plaining bitterly of the imperfections of Johnson's 
Dictionary. He had looked out Doncaster Sf. Leger 
in it, and couldn't find the word.' 

' How d'ye do, Bucke ? you're just the man I 
wanted to meet. Make a note of it while I re- 
member. There is an edition of Johnson just pub- 
lished, in which you'll find every single word you 



want. Now put it down at once. It's published 
under the title of John Bees' Slang Lexicon. Good 
b'ye. How's your brother ? 

' Pray, Cleveland, what do you think of Milman's 
" new dramatic poem," Anne Boleyn ? ' 

' I think it's the dullest work on the Catholic 
Question that has yet appeared.' 

' Is it true that Lockhart is going to have the 
Quarterly ? ' 

* It was told me as a positive fact to-day. I 
believe it.' 

* Murray can't do better. It's absolutely neces- 
sary that he should do something. Lockhart is a 
man of prodigious talents. Do you know him ? ' 

' Not in the least He certainly is a man of great 
powers, but I think rather too hot for the Quarterly.' 

' Oh ! no, no, no a little of the Albemarle Anti- 
attrition will soon cool the fiery wheels of his bound- 
ing chariot. Come ! I see our horses.' 

' Hyde Park is greatly changed since I was a 
dandy, Vivian. Pray, do the Misses Otranto still 
live in that house ? ' 

' Yes blooming as ever.' 

' It's the fashion to abuse Horace Walpole, but I 
really think him one of the most delightful writers 
that ever existed. I wonder who is to be the Horace 
Walpole of the present century ? some one perhaps 
we least suspect.' 

* Vivida Vis, think you ? ' 

1 More than probable. I'll tell you who ought to 
be writing Memoirs Lord Dropmore.' 

' Does my Lord Manfred keep his mansion there, 
next to the Misses Otranto ?' 

' I believe so, and lives there.' 

* I knew him in Germany a singular man, and 



not understood. Perhaps he does not understand 

' I'll join you in an instant, Cleveland. I just 
want to speak one word to Master Osborne, who I 
see coming down here. Well, Osborne ! I must 
come and knock you up one of these mornings. I've 
got a nice little commission for you from Lady 
Julia Knighton, which you must pay particular 
atention to.' 

* Well, Mr. Grey, how does Lady Julia like the 
bay mare ? ' 

' Very much, indeed ; but she wants to know what 
you've done about the chesnut ?' 

* Oh ! put it off, Sir, in the prettiest style, on 
young Mr. Feoffment, who has just married, and 
taken a house in Gower-street. He wanted a bit of 
blood hopes he likes it ! ' 

* Hopes he does, Jack. There's a particular 
favour which you can do me, Osborne, and which 
I'm sure you will. Ernest Clay you know Ernest 
Clay a most excellent fellow is Ernest Clay, you 
know, and a great friend of yours, Osborne ; I wish 
you'd just step down to Connaught Place, and look 
at these bays he bought of Harry Mounteney. 
He's in a little trouble, and we must do what we 
can for him you know he's an excellent fellow, 
and a great friend of yours. Thank you, thank 
you I knew you would. Good morning : re- 
member Lady Julia. So you really fitted young 
Feoffment with the chestnut. Well, that was ad- 
mirable ! Good morning ; good morning.' 

' I don't know whether you care for these things 
at all, Cleveland, but Premium, a famous Million- 
aire, has gone this morning, for I don't know 
how much 1 Half the new world will be ruined ; 



and in this old one, a most excellent fellow, my 
friend Ernest Clay. He was engaged to Premium's 
daughter his derniere resource ; and now, of course, 
it's all up with him.' 

' I was at College with his brother, Augustus Clay. 
He's a nephew of Lord Mounteney's, is he not ? ' 

' The very same. Poor fellow ! I don't know 
what we must do for him. I think I shall advise 
him to change his name to Chyvit/e ; and if the 
world ask him the reason of the euphonious aug- 
mentation, why, he can swear that it was to dis- 
tinguish himself from his brothers. Too many roues 
of the same name will never do. And now spurs 
to our steeds, for we are going at least three miles 
out of our way, and I must collect my senses, and 
arrange my curls before dinner ; for I have to flirt 
with, at least, three fair ones.' 



THESE conversations play the very deuce with one's 
story. I had intended to have commenced this 
book with something quite terrific a murder, or a 
marriage : and I find that all my great ideas have 
ended in a lounge. After all it is perhaps, the 
most natural termination. In life, surely, man is 
not always as monstrously busy as he appears to be 
in novels and romances. We are not always in 
action not always making speeches, or making 
money, or making war, or making love. Occasion- 
ally we talk, about the weather, generally some- 
times about ourselves oftener about our friends 
as often about our enemies at least, those who 
have any ; which, in my opinion, is the vulgarest 



of all possessions ; I have no enemies. Am I not 
an amiable fellow ? At this moment I am perfectly 
happy am I not a lucky fellow ? 

And what is your situation, Mr. Felicity, you 
will ask ? Have you just made a brilliant speech 
in the House ? or have you negotiated a great loan 
for a little nation ? or have you touched, for the 
first time, some fair one's cheek ? In short, what 
splendid juggle have you been successful in ? 
Have you deluded your own country, or another ? 
Have you deceived another's heart or, are you, 
yourself, a dupe ? Not at all, my sweet questioner 
I am strolling on a sunny lawn, and flanking 
butterflies with a tandem whip. 

I have not felt so well for these six months. 
What would I have given to have had my blood 
dancing as it is now, while I was scribbling the first 
volume and a half of this dear book. But there is 
nothing like the country ? I think I was saying 
that these lounges in St. James's Park do not al- 
ways very materially advance the progress of our 
narrative. Not that I would insinuate that the pro- 
gress of our narrative has flagged at all ; not in the 
least, I am sure we can't be accused of being prosy. 
There has been no Balaam (I don't approve this 
neologism ; but I am too indolent, at present, to 
think of another word,) in these books. I have with- 
stood every temptation ; and now, though I scarcely 
know in what way to make out this volume, here I 
am, without the least intention of finally proving that 
our Vivian Grey is the son of the Marquess of 
Carabas by a former and secret marriage in Italy, 
of course, Count Anselmo Naples and an old 
nurse, &c. &c. ; or that Mrs. Felix Lorraine is 
Horace Grey, Esquire, in disguise ; or of making 



that much neglected beauty, Julia Manvers, arrive in 
the last scene with, a chariot with four horses and a 
patent axle-tree just in time ! Alas ! dear Julia ! 
we may meet again. In the meantime the memory 
of your bright blue eyes shall not escape me ; and 
when we do meet, why, you shall talk more and 
laugh less. But you were young when last you 
listened to my nonsense ; one of those innocent 
young ladies, who, on entering a drawing-room, take 
a rapid glance at their curls in a pier glass, and then, 
flying to the eternal round table, seek refuge in an 
admiring examination of the beauties of the Florence 
Gallery, or the binding of Batty's views. 

This slight allusion to Julia is a digression. I was 
about to inform you, that I have no intention of 
finishing this book by any thing extraordinary. The 
truth is, and this is quite confidential, invention is 
not to be ( the feature ' of this work. What I have 
seen, I have written about ; and what I shall see, I 
shall perhaps, also write about. Some day I may, 
perchance, write for fame ; at present, I write for 
pleasure. I think, in that case, I'll write an epic, but 
it shall be in prose. The reign of Poesy is over, at 
least for half a century ; and by that time my bones 
will be bleached. I think I should have made a 
pretty poet. Indeed, it is with great difficulty that I 
prevent my paragraphs from hobbling into stanzas. 

Stop! I see the finest PURPLE EMPEROR, just 
alighting upon that myrtle. Beautiful insect ! thy 
title is too humble for thy bright estate ! for what is 
the pageantry of princes to the splendour of thy 
gorgeous robes ? I wish I were a purple Emperor ! 
I came into the world naked and you in a garment 
of glory. I dare not subject myself to the heat of 
the sun, for fear of a coup de soleil\ nor to a damp 



day for fear of the rheumatism ; but the free sky is 
your proper habitation, and the air your peculiar 
element. What care you, bright one, for Dr. 
Kitchener, or the Almanach des Gourmands ? you, 
whose food is the dew of heaven, and the honied 
juices which you distil from every flower ? Shadowed 
by a leaf of that thick shrub, I could for a moment 
fancy that your colour was sooty black ; and yet now 
that the soft wind has blown the leaf aside, my eye 
is suddenly dazzled at the resplendent glow of your 
vivid purple. Now I gaze in admiration at the 
delightful, and amazing variety of your shifting tints 
playing in the sunbeam ; now, as it is lighting up 
the splendour of your purple mantle, and now 
lending fresh brilliancy to your rings of burnished 
gold ! 

My brilliant purple Emperor ! I must have you 
I must indeed : but I wish, if possible, to bring you 
down, rather by the respiration of my flank than 
the impulse of my thong. Smack ! Confound the 
easterly wind playing up my nostril. I've missed 
him and there he flies, mounting higher and higher, 
till at last he fixes on the topmost branch of yon 
lofty acacia. What shall I do ? I'm not the least in 
the humour for writing. 

There is the luncheon bell ! Luncheon is a meal, 
if meal it may be called, which I do not patronise. 
'Tis very well for school-boys and young ladies ; 
acceptable to the first, because they are always ready 
to devour and to the second, because a glass of 
sherry and a slice of reindeer's tongue, and a little 
marmalade, and a little Neufchatel, enable them to 
toss their pretty little heads at dinner, and ' not 
touch any thing ; ' be proportionately pitied, and look 
proportionately interesting. Luncheon is the modern 



mystery of the Bona Dea. I say nothing, but I once 
acted Clodius, in this respect. I never wondered 
afterwards at a woman's want of appetite. 

But in the dear delicious country, and in a house 
where no visitor is staying, and where I am tempted 
to commit suicide hourly, I think I must take a very 
thin crust, or one traveller's biscuit, and a little 
Hock and Seltzer; although I'm in that horrid 
situation, neither possessing appetite, nor wanting 
refreshment. What shall I do now ? Who can 
write when the sun shines ? It's a warm, soft, sunny 
day, though in March. I'll lie down on the lawn 
and play with my Italian greyhound. Don't think 
me a puppy for having one. It was given to me by 
. That's a sufficient excuse, is it not ? 

Now Hyacinth, now my Hyacinth, now my own 
dog ; try to leap over me ! frolick away, my beau- 
tiful one ; I love thee, and have not I cause ? What 
confidence have you violated ? What sacred oaths 
have you outraged ? Have you proved a craven in 
the hour of trial ? Have I found you wanting when 
I called, or false when I fondled ? Why do you 
start so, my pretty dog ? Why are your eyes so 
fixed, your ears so erect. Pretty creature ! does any 
thing frighten you ? Kiss me, my own Hyacinth, 
my dear, dear dog ! Oh ! you little wretch ! you've 
bit my lip. Get out ! I'll not speak to you for a 

I'll get Spenser's Faery Queen I'm just in the 
humour for reading it ; but still its a horrid bore to 
get up and go to the library. Come ! a desperate 
exertion ! On my legs again there's nothing like 
energy. Here's the book. Oh ! how I shall revel 
in his sweet and bitter fancies ! Confusion ! I've 
brought a volume of Tillotson's sermons. I hate 
p 225 


the fellow ! That's the advantage of your country 
libraries, having all your books bound the same. 

Now I don't know what I shall do. I think I'll 
amuse myself by jumping over that ha-ha ; I'm 
quite confident I can do it and yet whenever I'm 
about trying, my heart sadly misgives me. It's a 
complete fallacy; it's devilish deep though. There 
that easterly wind has baulked me again ; and here 
I am, up to my knees in mud, and my pretty violet- 
coloured slippers spoilt ! 

First dinner bell ! A hecatomb to the son of 
Latona, his rays are getting less powerful, and it's 
getting a little later. Though nobody is staying 
here, I'll go and dress myself in the most elaborate 
manner; it will assist in the destruction of the time. 
What a dull dinner ! I have eaten of every thing : 
soupe printanniere (twice) fillets of turbot a la 
crime fowl a la Montmorenci, garnished with ragout 
a V Allemande neck of veal a la S te . Menehoult 
marinade of chickens a la St. Florentin Muriton of 
red tongue, with spinach six quails two dishes of 
kale, merely with plain butter half a dozen orange 
jellies, en mosdiques cauliflowers with veloute sauce, 
and a petit gateau h la M<enon a soujflee with lemon, 
and a dozen Neufchatel cheeses a bottle of Marke- 
brunnen, a pint of Latour, and a pint of Maraschino. 
Gone through it all ; and yet here I am, breathing as 
freely as a young eagle. Oh ! for an indigestion, if 
merely for the sake of variety ! Good heavens ! 
I'm afraid I'm getting healthy ! 

Now for Vivian Grey again ! I don't know how 
it is, but I cannot write to-day ; the room's so hot. 
Open that door : now I shall get on better. Oh, 
what a wretched pen! I can't get out a sentence. 
The room's too cold ; shut that horrid door. Write 



I must, and will, what's the matter ? It's this 
great bowstring of a cravat. Off with it ! who could 
ever write in a cravat ? 



MR. CLEVELAND and Mrs. Felix Lorraine again met, 
and the gentleman scarcely appeared to be aware that 
this meeting was not their first. The lady sighed, 
and fainted, and remonstrated ; and terrific scenes 
followed each other in frightful succession. She 
reproached Mr. Cleveland with passages of letters. 
He stared, and deigned not a reply to an artifice, 
which he considered equally impudent and shallow. 
Vivian was forced to interfere ; but as he deprecated 
all explanation, his interference was of little avail ; 
and, as it was ineffectual for one party, and uncalled 
for by the other, it was, of course, not encouraged. 
At length Mrs. Felix broke through all bounds. 
Now the enraged woman insulted Mrs. Cleveland, 
and now humbled herself before Mrs. Cleveland's 
husband. Her insults, and her humility, were 
treated with equal hauteur ; and at length the Cleve- 
lands left Buckhurst Lodge. 

Peculiar as was Mrs. Lorraine's conduct in this 
particular respect, we should, in candour, confess, 
that, at this moment, it was in all others most exem- 
plary. Her whole soul seem concentrated in the 
success of the approaching struggle. No office was 
too mechanical for her attention, or too elaborate for 
her enthusiastic assiduity. Her attentions were not 
confined merely to Vivian, and the Marquess, but 
were lavished with equal generosity on their col- 
leagues. She copied letters for Sir Berdmore, and 



composed letters for Lord Courtown, and construed 
letters to Lord Beaconsfield ; they, in return, echoed 
her praises to her delighted relative, who was daily 
congratulated on the possession of ' such a fascinating 

* Well, Vivian,' said Mrs. Lorraine, to that young 
gentleman, the day previous to his departure from 
Buckhurst Lodge ; ' you are going to leave me 
behind you.' 

Indeed ! ' 

* Yes ! I hope you will not want me. I'm very 
much annoyed at not being able to go to town with 
you, but Lady Courtown is so pressing ! and I've 
really promised so often to stay a week with her, that 
I thought it was better to make out my promise at 
once, than in six months hence.' 

' Well ! I'm exceedingly sorry, for you really are 
so useful ! and the interest you take in every thing 
is so encouraging, that, really, I very much fear that 
we shall not be able to get on without you. The 
important hour draws nigh.' 

' It does indeed, Vivian and I assure you that 
there is no person awaiting it with intenser interest 
than myself. I little thought,' she added, in a low, 
but distinct voice, ' I little thought, when I first 
reached England, that I should ever again be inter- 
ested in any thing in this world.' Vivian was silent 
for he had nothing to say. 

' Vivian ! ' very briskly resumed Mrs. Lorraine, 
* I shall get you to frank all my letters for me. 
I shall never trouble the Marquess again. Do 
you know, it strikes me you'll make a very good 
speaker ! ' 

' You flatter me exceedingly suppose you give 
me a few lessons.' 



* But you must leave off some of your wicked 
tricks, Vivian ! You must not improvise Parlia- 
mentary papers ! ' 

' Improvise papers, Mrs. Lorraine ! what can you 
mean ? ' 

' Oh ! nothing. I never mean any thing.' 

* But you must have had some meaning.' 

' Some meaning ! Oh ! yes, I dare say I had ; 
I meant I meant do you think it'll rain to-day ? ' 

' Every prospect of a hard frost. I never knew 
before that I was an improvisatore.' 

' Nor I. Have you heard from papa lately. I 
suppose he's quite in spirits at your success ? ' 

' My father is a man who seldom gives way to any 
elation of mind.' 

'Ah, indeed ! a philosopher, I've no doubt, like 
his son.' 

' I have no claims, I believe, to the title of philo- 
sopher, although I have had the advantage of study- 
ing in the school of Mrs. Felix Lorraine.' 

* Lord ! what do you mean ? If I thought you 
meant to be impertinent, I really would pull that 
pretty little curl ; but I excuse you I think the boy 
means well.' 

4 Oh ! the boy " means nothing he never means 
any thing.' ' 

' Come, Vivian ! we are going to part. Don't let 
us quarrel the last day. There, my little pet, there's 
a sprig of myrtle for you ! 

" What ! not accept my foolish flower ? 
Nay then, I am unblest indeed ' " 

and now you want it all ! Oh, you unreasonable 
young man ! If I were not the kindest lady in the 
in the land, I should tear this little sprig into a 
thousand pieces sooner ; but come, my pretty pet ! 



you shall have it. There ! it looks quite imposing 
in your button-hole. How handsome you look 
to-day ! ' 

* How agreeable you are to-day ! I do so love 
compliments ! ' 

4 Oh ! Vivian will you never give me credit for 
any thing but a light and callous heart ? Will you 
never be convinced that that but why make this 
humiliating confession ? Oh ! no, let me be mis- 
understood for ever ! The time may come, when 
Vivian Grey will find that Amalia Lorraine was 

' Was what, Lady ? ' 

' You shall choose the word, Vivian.' 

' Say then my friend.' 

' 'Tis a monosyllable full of meaning, and I will 
not quarrel with it. And now, adieu ! Heaven 
prosper you ! Believe me, that my first thoughts, 
and my last, are for you, and of you ! ' 


' THIS is very kind of you, Grey ! I was afraid my 
note might not have caught you. You hav'n't break- 
fasted ? Really, I wish you'd take up your quarters 
in Carabas House, for I want you now every 

* What is the urgent business of this morning, my 

* Oh ! I've seen Beresford.' 

' And everything is most satisfactory. I did not 
go into detail ; I left that for you : but I ascertained 
sufficient to convince me, that management is now 
alone required.' 



' Well, my Lord, I trust that will not be wanting.' 

' No, Vivian, you have opened my eyes to the 
situation in which fortune has placed me. The 
experience of every day only proves the truth, and 
soundness, of your views. Fortunate, indeed, was 
the hour in which we met.' 

' My Lord, I do trust that it was a meeting, which 
neither of us will live to repent.' 

' Impossible ! my dearest friend. I do not hesitate 
to say, that I would not change my present lot for 
that of any peer of this realm ; no, not for that of 
His Majesty's most favoured counseller. What ! 
with my character, and my influence, and my connec- 
tions, I to be a tool ! I, the Marquess of Carabas ! I 
say nothing of my own powers ; but, as you often 
most justly, and truly, observe, the world has had the 
opportunity of judging of them ; and I think, I may 
recur, without vanity, to the days in which my voice 
had some weight in the Royal Councils. And as I 
have often remarked, I have friends I have you, 
Vivian. My career is before you. I know what I 
should have done, at your age ; not to say what 
I did do I to be a tool ! The very last person 
that ought to be a tool. But I see my error : you 
have opened my eyes, and blessed be the hour in 
which we met. But we must take care how we act, 
Vivian ; we must be wary eh ! Vivian wary wary. 
People must know what their situations are, eh ! 
Vivian ?' 

* Exceedingly useful knowledge, my Lord, but I 
don't exactly understand the particular purport of 
your Lordship's last observation.' 

' You don't, eh ? asked the peer, and he fixed his 
eyes as earnestly, and expressively, as he possibly 
could upon his young companion. ' Well, I thought 



not. I was positive it was not true,' continued the 
Marquess, in a murmur. 
' What, my Lord ? ' 

* Oh ! nothing, nothing ; people talk at random 
at random at random. I feel confident you quite 
agree with me, eh ! Vivian ? ' 

* Really, my Lord, I fear I'm unusually dull this 

" Dull ! no, no, you quite agree with me. I feel 
confident you do. People must be taught what their 
situations are that's what I was saying, Vivian. My 
Lord Courtown,' added the Marquess in a whisper, 
* is not to have everything his own way eh ! 

* Oh, oh ! ' thought Vivian, ' this then is the result 
of that admirable creature, Mrs. Felix Lorraine, stay- 
ing a week with her dear friend, Lady Courtown. '- 

' My Lord, it would be singular, if, in the Carabas 
party, the Carabas interest was not the predominant 

' I knew you thought so. I couldn't believe for a 
minute, that you could think otherwise : but some 
people take such strange ideas into their heads I 
can't account for them. I felt confident what would 
be your opinion. My Lord Courtown is not to 
carry every thing before him, in the spirit that I have 
lately observed or rather, in the spirit which I 
understand, from very good authority, is exhibited. 
Eh ! Vivian that's your opinion, isn't it ? ' 

' Oh, my dear Marquess, we must think alike on 
this, as on all points.' 

' I knew it. I felt confident as to your sentiments 
upon this subject. I cannot conceive, why some 
people take such strange ideas into their heads ! I 
knew that you couldn't disagree with me upon this 



point. No, no, no, my Lord Courtown must feel 
which is the predominant interest, as you so well 
express it. How choice your expressions always are ! 
I don't know how it is, but you always hit upon the 
right expression, Vivian, The predominant interest 
the pre-do-mi-nant in-te-rest. To be sure. What ! 
with my high character and connections with my 
stake in society, was it to be expected that I, the 
Marquess of Carabas, was going to make any move 
which compromised the predominancy of my interests. 
No, no, no, my Lord Courtown the predominant 
interest must be kept predominant eh ! Vivian ? ' 

' To be sure, to be sure, my Lord ; explicitness 
and decision will soon arrange any desagremens* 

' I have been talking to the Marchioness, Vivian, 
upon the expediency of her opening the season early. 
I think a course of Parliamentary dinners would pro- 
duce a good effect. It gives a tone to a political 

' Certainly ; the science of political gastronomy 
has never been sufficiently studied.' 

' Egad ! Vivian, I'm in such spirits this morning. 
This business of Beresford so delights me; and 
finding you agree with me about Lord Courtown, 
I was confident as to your sentiments on that point. 
But some people take such strange ideas into their 
heads ! To be sure, to be sure, the predominant 
interest, mine that is to say, our's, Vivian, is the 
predominant interest. I've no idea of the predo- 
minant interest, not being predominant; that would 
be singular ! I knew you'd agree with me we 
always agree. 'Twas a lucky hour when we met. 
Two minds so exactly alike ! I was just your very 
self when I was young ; and as for you my career 
is before you.' 

2 33 


Here entered Mr. Sadler with the letters. 

* One from Courtown. I wonder if he has seen 
Mounteney. Mounteney is a very good-natured 
fellow, and I think might be managed. Ah ! I 
wish you could get hold of him, Vivian ; you'd soon 
bring him round. What it is to have brains, Vivian ! ' 
and here the Marquess shook his head very pomp- 
ously, and at the same time, tapped very significantly 
on his left temple. * Hah ! what what's all this ! 
Here, read it, read it, man. I've no head to-day.' 

Vivian took the letter, and his quick eye dashed 
through its contents in a second. It was from Lord 
Courtown, and dated far in the country. It talked 
of private communications, and premature conduct, 
and the suspicious, not to say dishonest, behaviour of 
Mr. Vivian Grey : it trusted that such conduct was 
not sanctioned by his Lordship, but ' nevertheless 
obliged to act with decision regretted the necessity,' 
&c. &c. &c. &c. In short, Lord Courtown had 
deserted, and recalled his pledge as to the official 
appointment promised to Mr. Cleveland, ' because 
that promise was made, while he was the victim of 
delusions created by the representations of Mr. Grey.' 

' What can all this mean, my Lord ?' 

The Marquess swore a fearful oath, and threw 
another letter. 

' This is from Lord Beaconsfield, my Lord,' said 
Vivian, with a face pallid as death, ' and apparently 
the composition of the same writer ; at least, it is the 
same tale, the same refacimento of lies, and treachery, 
and cowardice, doled out with diplomatic politesse. 

But I will off to shire instantly. It is not yet 

too late to save every thing. This is Wednesday ; 
on Thursday afternoon, I shall be at Norwood Park. 
Thank God ! I came this morning.' 



The face of the Marquess, who was treacherous as 
the wind, seemed already to indicate, * Adieu ! Mr. 
Vivian Grey ! ' but that countenance exhibited some 
very different passions, when it glanced over the 
contents of the next epistle. There was a tremen- 
dous oath and a dead silence. His Lordship's 
florid countenance turned as pale as that of his com- 
panion. The perspiration stole down in heavy drops. 
He gasped for breath ! 

' Good God ! my Lord, what is the matter ? ' 

' The matter ! ' howled the Marquess, ' the matter ! 
That I have been a vain, weak, miserable fool ! ' and 
then there was another oath, and he flung the letter 
to the other side of the table. 

It was the official conge of the Most Noble Sydney 
Marquess of Carabas. His Majesty had no longer 
any occasion for his services. His successor was 
Lord Courtown ! 

I will not affect to give any description of the 
conduct of the Marquess of Carabas at this moment. 
He raved ! he stamped ! he blasphemed ! but the 
whole of his abuse was levelled against his former 
' monstrous clever ' young friend ; of whose character 
he had so often boasted that his own was the proto- 
type, but who was now an adventurer a swindler 
a scoundrel a liar a base, deluding, flattering, 
fawning villain, &c. &c. &c. &c. 

' My Lord ! ' said Vivian. 

* I'll not hear you out on your fair words ! 
They have duped me enough already. That I, 
with my high character, and connections ! that I, 
the Marquess of Carabas, should have been the 
victim of the arts of a young scoundrel ! ' 

Vivian's fist was once clenched but it was only 
for a moment. The Marquess leant back in his 



chair, with his eyes shut. In the agony of the 
moment, a projecting tooth of his upper jaw, had 
forced itself through his under lip, and from the 
wound, the blood was flowing freely over his dead 
white countenance. Vivian left the room. 



HE stopped one moment on the landing-place, ere he 
was about to leave the house for ever. 

' 'Tis all over ! and so, Vivian Grey, your game is 
up ! and to die too, like a dog ! a woman's dupe ! 
Were I a despot, I should perhaps satiate my 
vengeance upon this female fiend, with the assistance 
of the rack but that cannot be ; and after all, it 
would be but a poor revenge in one who has wor- 
shipped the EMPIRE OF THE INTELLECT, to vindicate 
the agony I am now enduring, upon the base body of 
a woman. No ! 'tis not all over. There is yet an 
intellectual rack few dream of, far, far more terrific 
than the most exquisite contrivances of Parysatis. 
Madeleine,' said he to a female attendant that passed, 
* is your mistress at home ? ' 

' She is, Sir.' 

' 'Tis well,' said Vivian, and he sprang up stairs. 

' Health to the lady of our love ! ' said Vivian 
Grey, as he entered the elegant boudoir of Mrs. 
Felix Lorraine. 'In spite of . the easterly wind, 
which has spoiled my beauty for the season, I could 
not refrain from enquiring after your prosperity, 
before I went to the Marquess. Have you heard 
the news ? ' 

' News ! no ; what news ? ' 


' 'Tis a sad tale/ said Vivian, with a melancholy 

* Oh ! then, pray don't tell it me. I'm in no 
humour for sorrow to-day. Come ! a bon mot, or 
a calembourg, or exit Mr. Vivian Grey.' 

' Well then, good morning ! I'm off for a black 
crape, or a Barcelona kerchief. Mrs. Cleveland is 

' Dead ! ' exclaimed Mrs. Lorraine. 

' Ay ; cold dead. She died last night suddenly. 
Isn't it horrible ?' 

* Shocking ! ' exclaimed Mrs. Lorraine, with a 
mournful voice, and an eye dancing with joy. 
' Why ! Mr. Grey, I do declare you're weeping.' 

* It is not for the departed ! ' 

* Nay, Vivian ! for Heaven's sake, what's the 
matter ? ' 

' My dear Mrs. Lorraine ! ' But here the speaker's 
voice was choaked with grief, and he could not 

* Pray, compose yourself.' 

' Mrs. Felix Lorraine, can I speak with you half 
an hour, undisturbed ?' 

' Oh ! certainly, by all means. I'll ring for 
Madeleine. " Madeleine ! mind, I'm not at home 
to any one." Well ! what's the matter ?' 

' Oh ! Madam, I must pray your patience I wish 
you to shrive a penitent.' 

'Good God ! Mr. Grey! for Heaven's sake, be 

' For Heaven's sake for your sake for my soul's 
sake, I would be explicit ; but explicitness is not the 
language of such as I am. Can you listen to a tale 
of horror ? Can you promise me to contain your- 



* I will promise any thing. Pray, pray proceed/ 

But in spite of her earnest solicitations, her 
companion was mute. At length he arose from his 
chair, and leaning on the chimney-piece, buried his 
face in his hands, and wept most bitterly. 

' Vivian,' said Mrs. Lorraine, ' have you seen the 
Marquess yet ? ' 

' Not yet,' he sobbed ; ' I am going to him ; but 
I'm in no humour for business this morning.' 

' Oh ! compose yourself, I beseech you. I will 
hear every thing. You shall not complain of an 
inattentive, or an irritable auditor. Now, my dear 
Vivian, sit down and tell me all.' She led him to a 
chair, and then, after stifling his sobs, with a broken 
voice he proceeded. 

' You will recollect, Madam, that accident made 
me acquainted with certain circumstances connected 
with yourself, and Mr. Cleveland. Alas ! actuated 
by the vilest of sentiments, I conceived a violent 
hatred against that gentleman a hatred only to be 
equalled by my passion for you ; but, I find difficulty 
in dwelling upon the details of this sad story of 
jealousy and despair.' 

' Oh ! speak, speak ! compensate for all you have 
done, by your present frankness ; be brief be 

' I will be brief j shouted Vivian, with terrific 
earnestness ; ' I will be brief. Know then, Madam, 
that in order to prevent the intercourse between you 
and Mr. Cleveland from proceeding, I obtained his 
friendship, and became the confidant of his heart's 
sweetest secret. Thus situated, I suppressed the 
letters, with which I was entrusted from him to you, 
and poisoning his mind, I accounted for your silence, 
by your being employed in other correspondence ; 



nay, I did more, with the malice of a fiend, I boasted 
of nay, do not stop me; I have more to tell.' 

Mrs. Felix Lorraine, with compressed lips, and 
looks of horrible earnestness, gazed in silence. 

' The result of all this you know, but the most 
terrible part is to come ; and, by a strange fascination, 
I fly to confess my crimes at your feet, even, while 
the last minutes have witnessed my most heinous 
one. Oh ! Madam, I have stood over the bier of 
the departed ; I have mingled my tears with those of 
the sorrowing widower, his young, and tender, child 
was on my knee; and, as I kissed his innocent lips, 
methought it was but my duty to the departed, to 
save the father from his mother's rival He 

' Yes, yes, yes,' said Mrs. Felix Lorraine, in a 
low whisper. 

' It was then, even then, in the hour of his desola- 
tion, that I mentioned your name, that it might the 
more disgust him ; and, while he wept over his 
virtuous and sainted wife, I dwelt on the vices of 
his rejected Mistress.'' 

Mrs. Lorraine clasped her hands, and moved 
restlessly on her seat. 

' Nay ! do not stop me ; let me tell all. "Cleve- 
land," said I, " if ever you become the husband of 
Mrs. Felix Lorraine, remember my last words : it 
will be well for you, if your frame be like that of 

Mithridates of Pontus, and proof against poison" 

.j * And did you say this ?' shrieked the woman. 

' Even these were my words.' 

* Then may all evil blast you ! ' She threw herself 
on the sofa : her voice was choked with the convul- 
sions of her passion, and she writhed in the most 
fearful agony. 

2 39 


Vivian Grey, lounging in an arm-chair, in the 
the easiest of postures, and with a face brilliant with 
smiles, watched his victim with the eye of a Mephis- 

She slowly recovered, and with a broken voice 
poured forth her sacred absolution to the relieved 

' You wonder I do not stab you, hah ! hah ! hah ! 
there is no need for that; the good powers be 
praised, that you refused the draught I once proffered. 
Know, wretch, that your race is run. Within five 
minutes, you will breathe a beggar, and an outcast. 
Your golden dreams are over your cunning plans 
are circumvented your ambitious hopes are crushed 
for ever you are blighted in the very spring of your 
life. Oh ! may you never die ! May you wander 
for ever, the butt of the world's malice ! and may the 
slow moving finger of scorn, point where'er you go 
at the ruined Charlatan ! ' 

' Hah, hah ! is it so, my lady ? Oh ! think you, 
that Vivian Grey would fall by a woman's wile? 
Oh ! think you that Vivian Grey, could be crushed 
by such a worthless thing as you \ Know, then, that 
your political intrigues have been as little concealed 
from me, as your personal ones; I have been 
acquainted with all. The Marquess has, himself, 
seen the Minister, and is more firmly stablished in 
his pride of place than ever. I have, myself, seen 
our colleagues, whom you tampered with, and their 
hearts are still true, and their purpose still fixed. 
All, all prospers ; and ere five days are passed, " the 
Charlatan " will be a Senator' 

The shifting expression of Mrs. Lorraine's counte- 
nance, while Vivian was speaking, would have baffled 
the most cunning painter. Her complexion was 



capricious as the chamelion's, and her countenance 
was so convulsed, that her features seemed of all 
shapes and sizes. One large vein protruded nearly a 
quarter of an inch from her forehead ; and the dank 
light which gleamed in her tearful eye, was like an 
unwholesome meteor quivering in a marsh. When 
he ended, she sprang from the sofa, and looking up, 
and extending her arms with unmeaning wildness, 
she gave one loud shriek, and dropped like a bird 
shot on the wing she had burst a blood-vessel. 

Vivian raised her on the sofa, and paid her every 
possible attention. There is always a vile apothecary 
lurking about the mansions of the noble, and so a 
Mr. Andrewes soon appeared, and to this worthy, 
and the attendant Madeleine, Vivian delivered his 

Had Vivian Grey left the boudoir a pledged bride- 
groom, his countenance could not have been more 
triumphant ; but he was labouring under the most 
unnatural excitation : for it is singular, that when, 
as he left the house, the porter told him that Mr. 
Cleveland was with his Lord, Vivian had no idea at 
the moment, what individual bore that name. The 
fresh air of the street revived him, and somewhat 
cooled the bubbling of his blood. It was then that 
the man's information struck upon his senses. 

' So, poor Cleveland ! ' thought Vivian, ' then he 
knows all ! ' His own misery he had not yet thought 
of; but, when Cleveland occurred to him, with his 
ambition once more baulked his high hopes once 
more blasted and his honourable soul once more 
deceived, when he thought of his fair wife, and his 
infant children, and his ruined prospects; a sickness 
came over his heart, he grew dizzy, and fell. 

' And the gentleman's ill, I think,' said an honest 
Q 241 


Irishman ; and in the fulness of his charity, he placed 
Vivian on a door step. 

' So it seems,' said a genteel passenger in black ; 
and he snatched, with great sang-froid, Vivian's gold 
watch. 'Stop thief! ' halloed the Hibernian. Paddy 
was tripped up. There was a row ; in the midst of 
which, Vivian Grey crawled to an hotel. 



IN half an hour Vivian was at Mr. Cleveland's door. 

'My master is at the Marquess of Carabas', sir; 
he will not return, but is going immediately to Rich- 
mond, where Mrs. Cleveland is staying.' 

Vivian immediately wrote to Mr. Cleveland. ' If 
your Master has left the Marquess's, let this be for- 
warded to him at Richmond immediately.' 

' Cleveland ! 

' You know all. It would be mockery were I to 
say, that at this moment I am not thinking of myself. 
I am a ruined man, in body and in mind. But my 
own misery is nothing ; I can die I can go mad 
and who will be harmed ? But you ! I had wished 
that we should never meet again ; but my hand 
refuses to trace the thoughts with which my heart is 
full, and I am under the sad necessity of requesting 
you to see me once more. We have been betrayed 
and by a woman ; but, there has been revenge ! oh ! 
what revenge! 


When Vivian left Mr. Cleveland's, he actually did 
not know what to do with himself. Home, at pre- 
sent, he could not face, and so he continued to 



wander about, quite unconscious of locality. He 
passed in his progress many of his acquaintance, who, 
from his distracted air and rapid pace, imagined that 
he was intent on some important business. At 
length he found himself in one of the most seques- 
tered parts of Kensington Gardens. It was a cold, 
frosty day, and as Vivian flung himself upon one of 
the summer seats, the snow drifted from off the 
frozen board ; but Vivian's brow was as burning hot, 
as if he had been an inhabitant of Sirius. Throwing 
his arms on a small garden table, he buried his face 
in his hands, and wept as men can but once weep 
in this world ! 

Oh ! thou sublime and most subtle philosopher, 
who, in thy lamp-lit cell, art speculating upon the 
passions which thou hast never felt ! Oh ! thou 
splendid and most admirable poet, who, with cun- 
ning words, art painting with a smile a tale of woe ! 
tell me what is Grief ? and solve me the mystery of 
Sorrow ? 

Not for himself for after the first pang, he would 
have whistled off his high hopes with the spirit of 
a Ripperda not even for Cleveland for at this 
moment, it must be confessed, his thoughts were not 
for his friend did Vivian Grey's soul struggle, as if 
it were about to leave its fleshly chamber. I said he 
wept, as men can weep but once in this world ; and 
yet it would have been impossible for him to have 
defined what, at that fearful moment, was the cause 
of his heart's sorrow. Incidents of childhood, of the 
most trivial nature, and until this moment forgotten, 
flashed across his memory; he gazed on the smile of 
his mother he listened to the sweet tones of his 
father's voice and his hand clenched, with still more 
agonized grasp, his rude resting-place ; and the scald- 



ing tears dashed down his cheek in still more ardent 
torrents. He had no distinct remembrance of what 
had, so lately, happened ; but characters flitted before 
him as in a theatre in a dream dim and shadowy, 
yet full of mysterious and undefinable interest; and 
then there came a horrible idea across his mind, that 
his glittering youth was gone, and wasted ; and then 
there was a dark whisper of treachery and dissimula- 
tion, and dishonour; and then he sobbed as if his 
very heart were cracking. All his boasted philosophy 
vanished his artificial feelings fled him. Insulted 
Nature re-asserted her long spurned authority, and 
the once proud Vivian Grey felt too humble, even to 
curse himself. Gradually his sobs became less con- 
vulsed, and his brow more cool ; and calm from very 
exhaustion, he sat for upwards of an hour motionless. 
At this moment there issued, with their attendant, 
from an adjoining shrubbery, two beautiful children. 
They were so exceedingly lovely, that the passenger 
would have stopped to gaze upon them. The eldest, 
who yet was very young, was leading his sister hand 
in hand, with slow and graceful steps, mimicking the 
courtesy of men. But when his eye caught Vivian's, 
the boy uttered a loud cry of exultation, and rushed, 
with the eagerness of infantine affection, to his gentle 
and favourite playmate. They were the young Cleve- 
lands. With what miraculous quickness will man 
shake off the outward semblance of grief, when his 
sorrow is a secret ! The mighty Merchant, who 
knows that in four-and-twenty hours the world must 
be astounded by his insolvency, will walk in the front 
of his confident creditor, as if he were the lord of a 
thousand argosies the meditating Suicide will smile 
on the arm of a companion, as if to breathe in this 
sunny world, were the most ravishing, and rapturous 



bliss. We cling to our stations in our fellow creatures' 
minds, and memories ; we know, too well, the frail 
tenure on which we are in this world, great and con- 
sidered personages. Experience makes us shrink 
from the specious sneer of Sympathy ; and when we 
are ourselves falling, bitter Memory whispers, that 
we have ourselves been neglectful. 

And so it was, that, even unto these infants, Vivian 
Grey dared not appear other than a gay, and easy- 
hearted man ; and in a moment he was dancing them 
on his knee, and playing with their curls, and joining 
in their pretty prattle, and pressing their small and 
fragrant lips. 

It was night when he paced down. He passed 

his club; that club, to become a member of which, 
had once been the object of his high ambition, and to 
gain which privilege had cost such hours of canvas- 
sing ; such interference of noble friends ; and the in- 
curring of favours from five thousand people, ' which 
never could be forgotten.' 

I know not what desperate feeling actuated him, 
but he entered the Club-house. He walked into 
the great saloon, and met some fifty ' most particular 
friends,' all of whom asked him, ' how the Marquess 
did,' or ' have you seen Cleveland ?' and a thousand 
other as comfortable queries. At length, to avoid 
these disagreeable rencontres ; and, indeed, to rest 
himself, he went to a smaller and more private 
room. As he opened the door, his eyes lighted 
upon Cleveland. 

He was standing with his back to the fire. There 
were only two other persons in the room : one was 
a friend of Cleveland's, and the other an acquaintance 
of Vivian's. The latter was writing at the table. 

When Vivian saw Cleveland, he would have re- 



tired, but he was bid to ' come in,' in a voice of 

As he entered, he instantly perceived that Cleve- 
land was under the influence of wine. When in this 
situation, unlike other men, Mr. Cleveland's con- 
duct was not distinguished by any of the little im- 
proprieties of behaviour, by which a man is always 
known by his friends ' to be very drunk,' He 
neither reeled, nor hiccupped, nor grew maudlin. 
The effect of drinking upon him, was only to in- 
crease the intensity of the sensation by which his 
mind was, at the moment, influenced. He did not 
even lose the consciousness of identity of persons. 
At this moment, it was clear to Vivian that Cleveland 
was under the influence of the extremest passion : his 
eyes rolled widely, and seemed fixed only upon 
vacancy. As Vivian was no friend to scenas before 
strangers, he bowed to the two gentlemen, and 
saluted Cleveland with his wonted cordiality ; but his 
proffered hand was rudely repelled. 

' Away ! ' exclaimed Cleveland, in a furious tone ; 
' I have no friendship for traitors ! ' 

The two gentlemen stared, and the pen of the 
writer stopped. 

' Cleveland ! ' said Vivian, in an earnest whisper, as 
he came up close to him ; ' for God's sake, contain 
yourself. I have written you a letter which explains 
all but ' 

' Out ! out upon you ! Out upon your honied 
words, and your soft phrases ! I've been their dupe 
too long ; ' and he struck Vivian with tremendous 

' Sir John Poynings ! ' said Vivian, with a quivering 
lip, turning to the gentleman who was writing at the 
table ' we were school-fellows ; circumstances have 



prevented us from meeting often in after-life, but I 
now ask you with the frankness of an old acquaint- 
ance, to do me the sad service of accompanying me 
in this quarrel a quarrel which, I call Heaven to 
witness, is not of my seeking.' 

The Baronet, who was in the Guards, and, al- 
though a great dandy, quite a man of business in 
these matters, immediately rose from his seat, and 
led Vivian to a corner of the room. After some 
whispering, he turned round to Mr. Cleveland, and 
bowed to him with a very significant look. It was 
evident that Cleveland comprehended his meaning, 
for, though he was silent, he immediately pointed to 
the other gentleman his friend, Mr. Castleton. 

* Mr. Castleton,' said Sir John, giving his card, 
' Mr. Grey will accompany me to my rooms in Pall 
Mall ; it is now ten o'clock ; we shall wait two hours, 
in which time I hope to hear from you. I leave 
time, and place, and terms, to yourself. I only wish 
it to be understood, that it is the particular desire of 
my principal that the meeting should be as speedy as 

About eleven o'clock, the communication from 
Mr. Castleton arrived. It was quite evident that 
Cleveland was sobered, for in one instance, Vivian 
observed that the style was corrected by his own 

hand. The hour was eight, the next morning, at 

Common, about six miles from town. 

Poynings wrote to a professional friend to be on 
the ground at half-past seven, and then he and 
Vivian retired. 

Did you ever fight a duel ? No ! nor send a 
challenge either ? Well ! you're fresh indeed ! 'Tis 
an awkward business after all even for the boldest. 
After an immense deal of negociation, and giving 



the party every opportunity of coming to an honour- 
able understanding, the fatal letter is, at length, 
signed, sealed, and sent. You pass your morning at 
your second's apartments, pacing his drawing-room, 
with a quivering lip, and uncertain step. At length 
he enters with an answer, and while he reads, you 
endeavour to look easy, with "a countenance merry 
with the most melancholy smile. You have no 
appetite for dinner, but you are too brave not to 
appear at table ; and you are called out after the 
second glass by the arrival of your solicitor, who 
comes to alter your will. You pass a restless night, 
and rise in the morning as bilious as a Bengal general. 
Urged by impending fate, you make a desperate 
effort to accommodate matters, but in the contest 
between your pride and your terror, you, at the same 
time, prove that you're a coward, and fail in the 
negociation. You both fire and miss and then 
the seconds interfere, and then you shake hands, 
every thing being arranged in the most honourable 
manner, and to the mutual satisfaction of both 
parties. The next day you are seen pacing Bond 
Street, with an erect front, and a flashing eye with 
an air at once dandyish, and heroical a mixture, at 
the same time, of Brummell, and the Duke of 

It was a fine February morning. Sir John drove 
Vivian to the ground in his cabriolet. 

* Nothing like a cab, Grey, for the business you're 
going on. I only keep it for meetings. You glide 
along the six miles in such style, that it actually 
makes you quite courageous. I remember once 
going down, on a similar purpose, in a post and 
pair; and 'pon my soul, when I came to the ground, 
my hand shook so that I could scarcely draw. But 



I was green then. Now, when I go in my cab, with 
Philidor with his sixteen-mile-an-hour paces, egad ! 
I wing my man in a trice ; and take all the parties 
home to Pall Mall, to celebrate the event with a 
grilled bone, Havannahs, and Regent's punch. Ah ! 
there ! that's Cleveland that we have just passed, 
going to the ground in a chariot : he's a dead man, 
or my name's not Poynings 

' Come, Sir John ; no fear of Cleveland's dying,' 
said Vivian with a smile. 

' What, you mean to fire in the air, and all that 
sort of thing ? sentimental, but slip-slop ! ' 

The ground is measured all is arranged. Cleve- 
land, a splendid shot, fired first. His pistol grazed 
Vivian's elbow. Vivian fired in the air. The 
seconds interfered. Cleveland was implacable and 
' in the most irregular manner,' as Sir John declared, 
insisted upon another shot. To the astonishment of 
all, he fired quite wild. Vivian shot at random ; and 
his bullet pierced Cleveland's heart. Cleveland sprang 
nearly two yards from the ground, and then fell upon 
his back, In a moment Vivian was at the side of his 
fallen antagonist ; but the dying man ' made no sign ' 
he stared wildly, and then closed his eyes for ever ! 



WHEN Vivian Grey remembered his existence, he 
found himself in bed. The curtains of his couch 
were closed ; but, as he stared around him, they were 
softly withdrawn, and a face that recalled every thing 
to his recollection gazed upon him with a look of 
affectionate anxiety. 

' My father ! ' exclaimed Vivian but the finger 


pressed on the parental lip warned him to silence. 
His father knelt by his side, and softly kissed his 
forehead, and then the curtains were again closed. 

Six weeks, unconsciously to Vivian, had elapsed 
since the fatal day, and he was now recovering from 
the effects of a fever, from which, his medical 
attendants had supposed he never could have escaped. 
And what had been the past ? It did, indeed, seem 
like a hot and feverish dream. Here was he, once 
more in his own quiet room, watched over by his 
beloved parents ; and had there then ever existed 
such beings as the Marquess, and Mrs. Lorraine, 
and Cleveland, or were they only the actors in a 
vision ? ' It must be so,' thought Vivian ; and he 
jumped up in his bed, and stared wildly around him. 
* And yet it was a horrid dream ! Murder ! horrible 
murder ! and so real ! so palpable ! I muse upon 
their voices, as upon familiar sounds, and I recal all 
the events, not as the shadowy incidents of sleep 
that mysterious existence, in which the experience of 
a century seems caught in the breathing of a second 
but as the natural, and material consequences of 
time and stirring life. Oh ! no ! it is too true ! ' 
shrieked the wretched sufferer, as his eye glanced 
upon a desk which was on the table, and which had 
been given to him by the Marquess ; ' it is true ! it 
is true ! Murder ! murder ! ' He foamed at the 
mouth, and sunk exhausted on his pillow. 

But the human mind can master many sorrows, 
and after a desperate relapse, and another miraculous 
rally, Vivian Grey rose from his bed. 

* My father ! I fear that I shall live ! ' 

' Hope, rather, my beloved.' 

' Oh ! why should I hope ! ' and the sufferer's head 
sank upon his breast. 



* Do not give way, my son ; all will yet be well, 
and we shall yet be happy,' said the father with 
streaming eyes. 

* Happy ! oh, not in this world, my father ! ' 

4 Vivian, my dearest, your mother visited you this 
morning, but you were asleep. She was quite happy 
to find you slumbering so calmly.' 

' And yet my dreams were not the dreams of joy. 
Oh ! my mother, you were wont to smile upon 
me alas ! you smiled upon your sorrow.' 

' Vivian, my beloved ! you must indeed restrain 
your feelings. At your age, life cannot be the lost 
game you think it. A little repose, and I shall yet 
see my boy the honour to society which he deserves 
to be.' 

' Alas ! my father, you know not what I feel ! 
The springiness of my mind has gone. Oh ! man, 
what a vain fool thou art ! Nature has been too 
bountiful to thee. She has given thee the best of 
friends, and you value not the gift of exceeding price, 
until your griefs are past even friendship's cure. Oh ! 
my father ! why did I leave you ! ' and he seized Mr. 
Grey's hand with a convulsive grasp. 

Time flew on, even in this house of sorrow. 'My 
boy,' said Mr. Grey, to his son one day, ' your 
mother and I have been consulting together about 
you ; and we think, now that you have somewhat 
recovered your strength, it may be well for you to 
leave England for a short time. The novelty of 
travel will relieve your mind, without too much 
exciting it ; and if you can manage by the autumn, 
to settle down any where within a thousand miles of 
England, why we will come and join you, and you 
know that will be very pleasant. What say you, my 
boy, to this little plan ? ' 



In a few weeks after this proposition had been 
made, Vivian Grey was in Germany. He wandered 
for some months in that beautiful land of rivers, 
among which flows the Rhine, matchless in its loveli- 
ness ; and at length the pilgrim shook the dust off 
his feet at Heidelburg, in which city Vivian proposed 
taking up his residence. It is, in truth, a place of 
surpassing loveliness ; where all the romantic wildness 
of German scenery, is blended with the soft beauty 
of the Italian. An immense plain, which, in its 
extent and luxuriance, reminds you of the most 
fertile tracts of Tuscany, is bordered on one side by 
the Bergstrasse mountains, and on the other by the 
range of the Vosges. Situated on the river Neckar, 
in a ravine of the Bergstrasse, amid mountains covered 
with vines, is the city of Heidelburg : its ruined 
castle backing the city, and still frowning from one of 
the most commanding heights. In the middle of the 
broad plain, may be distinguished the shining spires 
of Mannheim, Worms, and Frankenthal; and, pour- 
its rich stream through this luxuriant land, the 
beautiful and abounding Rhine receives the tribute 
of the Neckar. The range of the Vosges forms the 
extreme distance. 

To the little world, of the little city, of which he 
was now a habitant, Vivian Grey did not appear 
a broken-hearted man. He lived neither as a 
recluse, nor a misanthrope. He became extremely 
addicted to field sports, especially to hunting the 
wild boar ; for he feared nothing so much as thought, 
and dreaded nothing so much as the solitude of his 
own chamber. He was an early riser, to escape from 
hideous dreams ; and at break of dawn, he wandered 
among the wild passes of the Bergstrasse ; or climb- 
ing a lofty ridge, was a watcher for the rising sun ; 



and in the evening he sailed upon the star-lit 

I fear me much, that Vivian Grey is a lost man ; 
but, I am sure that every sweet and gentle spirit, who 
has read this sad story of his fortunes, will breathe a 
holy prayer this night, for his restoration to society 
and to himself. 




THOU rapid AAR ! thy waves are swollen by the 
snows of a thousand hills but for whom are thy 
leaping waters fed ? Is it for the RHINE ? 

Calmly, oh ! placid NECKAR, does thy blue stream 
glide through thy vine-clad vales but calmer seems 
thy course when it touches the rushing RHINE ! 

How fragrant are the banks which are cooled by 
thy dark-green waters, thou tranquil MAINE ! but 
is not the perfume sweeter of the gardens of the 

Thou impetuous NAH ! I lingered by thine islands 
of nightingales, and I asked thy rushing waters why 
they disturbed the music of thy groves ? They told 
me, they were hastening to the RHINE ! 

Red MOSELLE ! fierce is the swell of thy spreading 
course but why do thy broad waters blush when 
they meet the RHINE ? 

Thou delicate MEUSE ! how clear is the current 
of thy limpid wave as the wife yields to the hus- 
band, do thy pure waters yield to the RHINE ! 

And thou ! triumphant and imperial River, flushed 
with the tribute of these vassal streams ; thou art 
thyself a tributary, and hastenest even in the pride of 
conquest to confess thine own vassalage ! But no 

2 54 


superior stream exults in the homage of thy servile 
waters : the Ocean, the eternal Ocean, alone comes 
forward to receive thy kiss ! not as a conqueror, but 
as a parent, he welcomes with proud joy his gifted 
child, the offspring of his honour ; thy duty his 
delight ; thy tribute thine own glory ! 

Once more upon thy banks, most beauteous 
RHINE ! In the spring-time of my youth I gazed on 
thee, and deemed thee matchless. Thy vine- 
enamoured mountains thy spreading waters thy 
traditionary crags thy shining cities the sparkling 
villages of thy winding shores thy antique convents 
thy grey and silent castles the purple glories of 
thy radiant grape the vivid tints of thy teeming 
flowers the fragrance of thy sky the melody of thy 
birds, whose carols tell the pleasures of their sunny 
woods, are they less lovely now, less beautiful, less 
sweet ? 

Once more upon thy banks, most beauteous 
RHINE ! Since I first gazed on thee, other climes 
have revealed to me their wonders, and their glory 
other climes, which Fame, perhaps, loves more ; 
which many deem more beautiful but not for a 
moment have I forgotten thy varied banks, and my 
memory still clings to thee, thou River of my Youth ! 

The keen emotions of our youth are often the 
occasion of our estimating too ardently ; but the first 
impression of beauty, though often overcharged, is 
seldom supplanted : and as the first great author 
which he reads is reverenced by the boy as the most 
immortal, and the first beautiful woman that he meets 
is sanctified by him as the most adorable ; so the 
impressions created upon us by those scenes of 
nature which first realize the romance of our reveries 
never escape from our minds, and are ever conse- 

2 55 


crated in our memories ; and thus some great 
spirits, after having played their part on the theatre 
of the world, have retired from the blaze of courts 
and cities, to the sweet seclusion of some spot, which 
they have accidently met with in the earliest years of 
their career. 

But we are to speak of one who had retired from 
the world before his time ; of one, whose early vices, 
and early follies, have been already obtruded, for n6 
unworthy reason, on the notice of the public, in as 
hot and hurried a sketch as ever yet was penned ; 
but like its subject ; for what is youth but a sketch 
a brief hour of principles unsettled, passions 
unrestrained, powers undeveloped, and purposes 
unexecuted ! 

I am loth to speak even one moment of the author, 
instead of the hero ; but with respect to those who 
have with such singular industry associated the 
character of the author of Vivian Grey with that of 
his hero ; I must observe, that as this is an incon- 
venience which I share in company with more cele- 
brated writers, so also is it one which will never 
prevent me from describing any character which 
my mind may conceive. 

To those who, alike unacquainted with my person, 
my life, my habits, have, with that audacious 
accuracy for which ignorance is celebrated, not only 
boldly avowed that the original of my hero may be 
discovered in myself, but that the character, at the 
same time, forms also a flattering portrait of a more 
frail original, I shall say nothing. Most of these 
chatterers are included in that vast catalogue of 
frivolous beings who carry on in society an espionage 
on a small scale, not precisely through malice, but 
from an invincible ambition of having something to 



say, when they have nothing to think about. A few 
of these persons, I am informed, cannot even plead a 
brainless skull as an excuse for their indecent conduct ; 
but dreading that in time the lash might be applied 
to their own guilty littleness, they have sought in 
the propagation of falsehood on their part, a boasted 
means for the prevention of further publication on 
mine. Unlucky rogues ! how effectual have been 
your exertions ! Let me not by one irritable expres- 
sion console these clumsy midwives of calumny for 
the abortion of their slander ; but pass over their 
offences with that merciful silence, to which even 
insolent imbecility is ever entitled. 

Of the personal, and political matter contained in 
the former books of this work, I can declare, that 
though written in a hasty, it was not written in a 
reckless spirit ; and that there is nothing contained 
in those volumes of which I am morally ashamed. 
As to the various satires in verse, and political and 
dramatic articles of unsuccessful newspapers, which 
have been palmed, with such lavish liberality, upon 
myself, or upon another individual as the supposed 
author of this work inasmuch, as I never wrote one 
single line of them, neither of the articles nor of the 
satires, it is unnecessary for me to apologise for their 
contents. They have been made the ostensible, the 
avowed pretext for a series of attacks, which 1 now, 
for once, notice, only to recommend them to the 
attentive study of those ingenious gentlemen who 
wish to be libellers with impunity ; and who are 
desirous of vindicating imaginary wrongs, or main- 
taining a miserable existence by the publication of 
periodical rhapsodies, whose foul scurrility, over- 
wrought malice, ludicrous passion, evident mendacity, 
and frantic feebleness, alike exempt them from the 
R 257 


castigation of literary notice, or the severer penalties 
of an outraged law. 

Of the literary vices of Vivian Grey, no one is 
perhaps more sensible than their author. I con- 
ceived the character of a youth of great talents, whose 
mind had been corrupted, as the minds of many of 
our youth have been, by the artificial age in which 
he lived. The age was not less corrupted than the 
being it had generated. In his whole career he was 
to be pitied ; but for his whole career he was not to 
be less punished. When I sketched the feelings of 
his early boyhood, as the novelist, I had already fore- 
seen the results to which those feelings were to lead ; 
and had in store for the fictitious character the pun- 
ishment which he endured. I am blamed for the 
affectation, the flippancy, the arrogance, the wicked 
wit of this fictitious character. Yet was Vivian Grey 
to talk like Simon Pure, and act like Sir Charles 
Grandison ? bnc 

But to our tale. Upwards of a year had now 
elapsed since Vivian Grey left England. The mode 
of life which he pursued at Heidelburg for many 
months, has already been mentioned. He felt him- 
self a broken-hearted man, and looked for death, 
whose delay was no blessing ; but the feelings of 
youth which had misled him in his burning hours of 
joy, equally deceived him in his days of sorrow. He 
lived ; and in the course of time, found each day 
that life was less burdensome. The truth is, that if 
it be the lot of man to suffer, it is also his fortune to 
forget. Oblivion and Sorrow share our being in 
much the same manner, as Darkness and Light 
divide the course of time. It is not in human nature 
to endure extremities, and sorrows soon destroy either 
us, or themselves. Perhaps the fate of Niobe is no 



fable, but a type of the callousness of our nature. 
There is a time in human suffering when succeeding 
sorrows are but like snow falling on an iceberg. It 
is true, that it is horrible to think that our peace of 
mind should arise, not from a retrospection of the 
past, but from a forgetfulness of it; but, though this 
peace of mind is produced at the best by a mental 
laudanum, it is not valueless ; and Oblivion, after all, 
is a just judge. As we retain but a faint remem- 
brance of our felicity, it is but fair that the smartest 
stroke of sorrow should, if bitter, at least be brief. 
But in feeling that he might yet again mingle in the 
world, Vivian Grey also felt that he must meet man- 
kind with different feelings, and view their pursuits 
with a different interest. He woke from his secret 
sorrow in as changed a state of being, as the water 
nymph from her first embrace ; and he woke with a 
new possession, not only as miraculous as Undine's 
soul, but gained at as great a price, and leading to as 
bitter results. The nymph woke to new pleasures, 
and to new sorrows ; and innocent as an infant she 
deemed mankind a god, and the world a paradise. 
Vivian Grey discovered that this deity was but an 
idol of brass, and this garden of Eden but a savage 
waste ; for if the river nymph had gained a soul, he 
had gained EXPERIENCE. 

EXPERIENCE word so lightly used, so little under- 
stood ! Experience, -mysterious spirit ! whose result 
is felt by all, whose nature is described by none. 
The father warns the son of your approach, and 
sometimes looks to you as his offspring's cure, and 
his own consolation. We hear of you in the nursery 
we hear of you in the world we hear of you in 
books ; but who has recognised you until he was 
your subject, and who has discovered the object of 

2 59 


so much fame, until he has kissed your chain ? To 
gain you is the work of all, and the curse of all ; you 
are at the same time necessary to our happiness, 
and destructive of our felicity ; you are the saviour 
of all things, and the destroyer of all things ; 
our best friend, and our bitterest enemy ; for you 
teach us truth, and that truth is despair. Ye 
youth of England, would that ye could read this 

To wake from your bright hopes, and feel that all 
is vanity to be roused from your crafty plans, and 
know that all is worthless, is a bitter, but your sure 
destiny. Escape is impossible; for despair is the 
price of conviction. How many centuries have fled, 
since Solomon, in his cedar palaces, sung the vanity 
of man ! Though his harp was golden, and his 
throne of ivory, his feelings were not less keen, and 
his conviction not less complete. How many sages 
of all nations, have, since the monarch of Jerusalem, 
echoed his sad philosophy ! yet the vain bubble still 
glitters, and still allures, and must for ever. 

The genealogy of Experience is brief; for Experi- 
ence is the child of Thought, and Thought is the 
child of Action. We cannot learn men from books, 
nor can we form, from written descriptions, a more 
accurate idea of the movements of the human heart, 
than we can of the movements of nature. A man 
may read all his life, and form no conception of the 
rush of a mountain torrent, or the waving of a forest 
of pines in a storm ; and a man may study in his 
closet the heart of his fellow creatures for ever, and 
have no idea of the power of ambition, or the strength 
of revenge. 

It is when we have acted ourselves, and have seen 
others acting ; it is when we have laboured ourselves 



under the influence of our passions, and have seen 
others labouring ; it is when our great hopes have been 
attained, or have been baulked; it is when, after- 
having had the human heart revealed to us, we have 
the first opportunity to think ; it is then, if we can 
think, that the whole truth lights upon us ; it is then 
that we ask of ourselves whether it be wise to endure 
such anxiety of mind, such agitation of spirit, such 
harrowing of the soul, to gain what may cease to 
interest to-morrow, or for which, at the best, a few 
years of enjoyment can alone be afforded ; it is then 
that we waken to the hollowness of all human things ; 
it is then that the sayings of sages, and the warnings 
of prophets are explained and understood ; it is then 
that we gain EXPERIENCE. 

To deem all things vain is not the part of a 
disappointed man, who may feign it, but who can 
never feel it. To deem all things vain is the bitter 
portion of that mind, who, having known the world, 
dares to think. Experience will arise as often from 
satiety of joy as from the sting of sorrow. But 
knowledge of the world is only an acquaintance with 
the powers of human passions, formed from our 
observation of our fellow creatures, and of ourselves. 
He whose courage has been put to the test who has 
relied on the love, or suffered by the hate of woman 
has been deceived by man, and has deceived him- 
self may have as much knowledge of the world at 
twenty, as if he had lived a century. We may travel 
over the whole globe and not gain more, although, 
certainly, we might have more opportunities of seeing 
the same farce repeated, the same game of broken 
promises, and baulked hopes, false expectation, and 
self-delusion. Few men were better acquainted with 
their species than Gil Bias, when he sat down at 



Lirias, and yet he had only travelled in two or three 
Spanish provinces. 

Vivian Grey woke, as we have said, to a convic- 
tion of the worthlessness of human fortunes. His 
character was changed ; and this is the most wonder- 
ful of all revolutions a revolution which precept or 
reason can never bring about, but which a change of 
circumstances or fortune may. In his career through 
the world he resembled a turbid mountain river, 
whose colour had been cleared, and whose course 
had been calmed in its passage through a lake. 

But he commenced by founding his philosophy on 
a new error ; for he fancied himself passionless, which 
man never is. His trial had been severe, and be- 
cause he could no longer interest himself in any of 
the usual pursuits of men, he believed that he could 
interest himself in none. But doubting of all things, 
he doubted of himself ; and finding himself so changed 
from what he had been only a year or two before, he 
felt as if he should not be astonished if he changed 

With all his grief, he was no cynic if he smiled 
on men, it was not in bitterness ; if he thought them 
base, he did not blame them. He pitied those whose 
baseness, in his opinion, was their sufficient punish- 
ment ; for nothing they could attain could repay 
them for the hot contest of their passions. Subdued, 
but not melancholy ; contemplative, but not gloomy ; 
he left his solitude. Careless of what was to come, 
the whole world was before him. Indifference is at 
least the boon of sorrow ; for none look forward to 
the future with indifference who do not look back to 
the past with dread. 

Vivian Grey was now about to join, for the second 
time, the great and agitated crowd of beings, who are 



all intent in the search after that undiscoverable talis- 
man HAPPINESS. That he entertained the slightest 
hopes of being the successful inquirer, is not for a 
moment to be imagined. He considered that the 
happiest moment in human life is exactly the sensa- 
tion of a sailor who has escaped a shipwreck ; and 
that the mere belief that his wishes are to be indulged 
is the greatest bliss enjoyed by man. 

How far his belief was correct, how he prospered 
in this, his second venture on the great ocean of life, 
it is our business to relate. There were moments, 
when he wished himself neither experienced nor a 
philosopher moments when he looked back to the 
lost paradise of his innocent boyhood those glorious 
hours, when the unruffled river of his Life mirrored 
the cloudless heaven of his Hope ! 


VIVIAN pulled up his horse as he ascended through 
the fine beech wood, which leads immediately to the 
city of Frankfort, from the Darmstadt road. The 
crowd seemed to increase every moment, but as they 
were all hastening in the same way, his progress was 
not much impeded. It was Frankfort fair ; and all 
countenances were expressive of that excitement which 
we always experience at great meetings of our fellow 
creatures ; whether the assemblies be for slaughter, 
pleasure, or profit, and whether or not we ourselves 
join in the banquet, the battle, or the fair. At the 
top of the hill is an old Roman tower, and from this 
point the flourishing city of Frankfort, with its pic- 
turesque Cathedral, its numerous villas, and beautiful 
gardens in the middle of the fertile valley of the 
Maine, burst upon Vivian's sight. On crossing the 



bridge over the river the crowd became almost im- 
passable, and it was with the greatest difficulty that 
Vivian steered his way through the old narrow wind- 
ing streets, full of tall ancient houses, with heavy 
casements and notched gable ends. These structures 
did not, however, at the present moment, greet the 
traveller with their usual sombre and antique appear- 
ance : their outside walls were in most instances 
entirely covered with pieces of broad cloth of the 
most showy colours ; red, blue, and yellow predomi- 
nating. These standards of trade were not merely 
used for the purpose of exhibiting the quality of the 
articles sold in the interior, but, also, of informing the 
curious traveller, the name and nation of their adven- 
turous owners. Inscriptions in German, French, 
Russian, English, Italian, and even Hebrew, appeared 
in striking characters on each woollen specimen ; 
and, as if these were not sufficient to attract the 
attention of the passenger, an active apprentice, or 
assistant, commented in eloquent terms on the 
peculiar fairness and honesty of his master. The 
public squares, and other open spaces, and indeed 
every spot which was secure from the hurrying 
wheels of the heavy old-fashioned coaches of the 
Frankfort aristocracy, and the spirited pawings of 
their sleek and long-tailed coach horses, were covered 
with large and showy booths, which groaned under 
the accumulated treasures of all countries : French 
silks, and French clocks, rivalled Manchester cottons, 
and Sheffield Cutlery ; and assisted to attract, or 
entrap the gazer, in company with Venetian chains, 
Neapolitan coral, and Vienna pipeheads : here was 
the booth of a great bookseller, who looked to the 
approaching Leipsic fair for some consolation for his 
slow sale, and the bad taste of the people of Frank- 



fort ; and there was a dealer in Bologna sausages, who 
felt quite convinced that in some things the taste of 
the Frankfort public was by no means to be lightly 
spoken of. All was bustle, bargaining, and business : 
there were quarrels, and conversation in all languages ; 
and Vivian Grey, although he had no chance either of 
winning or losing money, was amused. 

At last, Vivian gained the High street ; and here, 
though the crowd was not less, the space was greater ; 
and so in time he arrived at the grand hotel of the 
' Roman Emperor,' where he stopped. It was a long 
time before he could be informed whether Baron 
Julius von Konigstein at present honoured that re- 
spectable establishment with his presence ; for, al- 
though Vivian did sometimes succeed in obtaining an 
audience of a hurrying waiter, that animal, when in 
a hurry, has a peculiar habit of never attending to a 
question which a traveller addresses to him. In this 
dilemma Vivian was saluted by a stately-looking per- 
sonage above the common height. He was dressed 
in a very splendid uniform of green and gold, covered 
with embroidery and glittering with frogs. He wore 
a cocked hat, adorned with a flowing party-coloured 
plume, and from his broad golden belt was suspended 
a weapon of singular shape and costly workmanship. 
This personage was as stiff and stately, as he was 
magnificent. His eyes were studiously preserved 
from the profanation of meeting the ground, and his 
well supported neck seldom condescended to move 
from its perpendicular position. His coat was but- 
toned to the chin and over the breast, with the 
exception of one small aperture, which was elegantly 
filled up by a delicate white cambric handkerchief, 
very redolent of rich perfumes. This gorgeous 
gentleman, who might have been mistaken for an 



elector of the German empire, had the German empire 
been in existence, or the governor of the city at the 
least, turned out to be the chasseur of the Baron 
von Konigstein ; and with his courtly assistance, Vivian 
soon found himself ascending the staircase of the 
Roman Emperor. 

Vivian was ushered into an apartment, in which 
he found three or four individuals at breakfast. A 
middle-aged man of very elegant appearance, in a 
most outre morning gown of Parisian chintz, sprung 
up from a many-cushioned easy-chair of scarlet 
morocco, and seized his hand as he was announced. 

' My dear Mr. Grey ! and so you are really kind 
enough to call upon me I was so fearful lest you 
should not come Eugene was so desirous that we 
should meet, and has said so many things of you, 
that I should have been mortified beyond expression 
if we had missed. I have left notes for you at all 
the principal hotels in the city. And how is Eugene ? 
his, is wild blood for a young student, but a good 
heart, an excellent heart and you have been so 
kind to him ! he feels under such particular obliga- 
tions to you under very particular obligations I 
assure you and will you breakfast? Ah! I see 
you smile at my supposing a horseman unbreak- 
fasted. And have you ridden here from Heidelburg 
this morning ? impossible ! Only from Darmstadt ! 
I thought so ! You were at the Opera then last 
night. And how is the little Signora ? We are to 
gain her though ? trust the good people of Frankfort 
for that ! Pray be seated but really I'm forgetting 
the commonest rules of breeding. Next to the 
pleasure of having friends, is that of introducing 
them to each other Prince, you will have great 
pleasure in being introduced to my friend Mr. Grey 



Mr. Grey ! Prince Salvinski ! my particular 
friend, Prince Salvinski. The Count von Alten- 
burgh ! Mr. Grey ! my very particular friend, the 
Count von Altenburgh and the Chevalier de 
Bceffleurs ! Mr. Grey ! my most particular friend, 
the Chevalier de Bceffleurs.' 

After this most hospitable reception from a man 
he had never seen before, Vivian Grey sat down. 
Baron Julius von Konigstein was minister to the 
Diet of Frankfort, from what is termed a ' first rate ' 
German power. In person he was short, but most 
delicately formed; his head was a little bald, but as 
he was only five-and-thirty, this could scarcely be 
from age ; and his remaining hair, black, glossy, and 
curling, proved that their companion ringlets had 
not been long lost. His features were small, but 
not otherwise remarkable ; except a pair of luscious- 
looking, liquid black eyes, of great size, which would 
have hardly become a stoic, and which gleamed with 
great meaning, and perpetual animation. 

' I understand, Mr. Grey, that you're a regular 
philosopher. Pray who is the favourite master ? 
Kant or Fichte ? or is there any other new star who 
has discovered the origin of our essence, and proved 
the non-necessity of eating ! Count, let me help 
you to a little more of these saucisses aux choux, 
I'm afraid, from Eugene's account, that you're almost 
past redemption ; and I'm sorry to say, that although 
I'm very desirous of being your physician and effect- 
ing your cure, Frankfort will supply me with very 
few drugs to work your recovery. If you could but 
get me an appointment once again to your delightful 
London, I might indeed produce some effect ; or 
were I even at Berlin, or at your delicious Vienna, 
Count Altenburgh ! (the Count bowed) ; or at that 



Paradise of women, Warsaw, Prince Salvinski ! ! (the 
Prince bowed) ; or at Paris ! ! ! Chevalier (the Che- 
valier bowed) ; why then, indeed, you should have 
some difficulty in finding an excuse for being in low 
spirits with Julius von Konigstein ! But, Frankfort, 
my dear fellow, is really the most horrible of 
all human places ! perfectly provincial eh ! de 
Bceffleurs ? ' 

* Oh ! perfectly provincial,' sighed the French 
Chevalier, who was also attached to a mission in this 
very city, and who was thinking of his own gay 
Boulevards, and his brilliant Tuileries. 

'And the men, such brutes ! mere citizens ! ' con- 
tinued the Baron, taking a long pinch of snuff, 
'mere citizens! Do you take snuff? I merely 
keep this box for my friends ; ' and here he extended 
to Vivian a magnificent gold snuff-box, covered with 
the portrait of a crowned head, surrounded with 
diamonds : ' A present from the King of Sardinia, 

when I negociated the marriage of the Duke of 

and his niece, and settled the long agitated contro- 
versy about the right of anchovy fishing on the left 
bank of the Mediterranean : I merely keep it for my 
friends; my own snuff is here.' And the Baron 
pointed very significantly to his waistcoat-pocket, 
cased with tin. 

' But the women,' continued the Baron, ' the 
women that is a different thing. There's some 
amusement among the little bourgeoises, who are 
glad enough to get rid of their commercial beaus ; 
whose small talk, after a waltz, is about bills of 
exchange, mixed up with a little patriotism about 
their free city, and some chatter about what they call 
" the fine arts ; " their horrid collections of " the 
Dutch school : " School forsooth ! a cabbage, by 



Gerard Dow! and a candlestick, by Mieris ! And 
now will you take a basin of soup, and warm your- 
self, while his Highness continues his account of 
being frozen to death this spring at the top of Mont- 
Blanc : how was it, Prince ? ' 

* I think I was at the second attempt ? ' asked the 
Pole, collecting himself after this long interruption. 
He was, as all Poles are, a great traveller; had 
seen much, and described more though a great 
liar, he was a dull man ; and the Baron, who never 
allowed himself to be outdone in a good story, 
affected to credit the Prince's, and returned him his 
thanks in kind, which his Highness, in spite of his 
habitual mendacity on the point of his own travels, 
singularly enough, always credited. 

* Did your Highness ultimately ascend to the top 
of Mont Blanc ? ' asked Vivian. 

' No ' said the Prince very slowly, as if he 

confessed the fact with reluctance : ' I did not I 
certainly did not ; although I did reach a much 
higher point than I contemplated after my repulse ; 
a point, indeed, which would warrant some indivi- 
duals in asserting that they had even reached the 
summit ; but in matters of science 1 am scrupulously 
correct, and I certainly cannot say that I did reach 
the extreme top. I say so, because, as I believe, I 
mentioned before, in matters of science I make it a 
point to be particularly correct. It is singular, but 
no less true, that after reaching the fifth glacier, I 
encountered a pyramidal elevation of, I should calcu- 
late, fifteen hundred feet in height. This pyramidal 
elevation was not perpendicular, but had an unhappy 
inclination forward, of about one inch in eight. It 
was entirely of solid, green, polished ice. Nature 
had formed no rut to assist the philosopher. I 



paused before this pyramidal elevation of polished, 
slippery, green ice. I was informed that it was 
necessary for me to ascend this pyramidal elevation 
during the night ; and this pyramidal elevation of 
solid, green, polished, slippery ice, Mr. Grey, with 
an unhappy inclination forward, of one inch in eight 
from the perpendicular, was the top of Mont Blanc. 
Saussure may say that he ascended it for ever \ For 
my part, when I beheld this pyramidal elevation, 
gentlemen, I was not surprised that there was some 
little variance as to the exact height of this mighty 
mountain, among all those philosophers who profess 
to have reached its summit.' On this head the 
travelling Pole would have discoursed for ever; but 
the Baron, with his usual presence of mind, dexter- 
ously interfered. 

* You were fortunate, Prince ; I congratulate you. 
I've heard of that iceberg before. I remember, my 
cousin, who ascended the mountain about ten years 
ago was it ten years ago ? yes, ten years ago. I 
remember he slept at the foot of that very pyramidal 
elevation, in a miserable mountain-hut, intending to 
climb it in the morning. He was not so well- 
instructed as your Highness, who, doubtless, avoided 
the diurnal ascent, from fear of the effect of the sun's 
rays on the slippery ice. Well, my cousin, as I said 
before, slept in the mountain-hut ; and in the night 
there came such a fall of snow, that when he awoke, 
he found the cottage-door utterly blocked up. In 
fact, the whole building was encrusted in a coating of 
snow, of above forty feet thick. In this state of 
affairs, having previously made a nuncupative will, to 
which the guides were to be witnesses, in case of their 
escape, he resigned himself to his fate. But Provi- 
dence interfered ; a violent tornado arose. Among 



other matter, the gigantic snow-ball was lifted up in 
the air with as much ease as if it were merely a drop 
of sleet. It bounded from glacier to glacier with the 
most miraculous rapidity, and at length vaulted on 
the Mer-de-glace, where it cracked into a thousand 
pieces. My cousin was taken up by a couple of 
young English ladies, who were sketching the Mont- 
anvert, with three or four of the principal glaciers 
for a back-ground. The only inconveniences he 
sustained were a severe cold, and a slight contusion ; 
and he was so enchanted with the manners of the 
youngest lady, who, by the bye, had a very con- 
siderable fortune, that he married her the next 
week.' Here the Baron took a long pinch of 

' Mon Dieu f ' exclaimed the Polish Prince, who 
affected French manners. 

' Mon Dieu /' exclaimed the Austrian Count, who 
was equally refined. 

' Mon Dieu / ' exclaimed the Frenchman ; who, 
believing his own country superior in every possible 
particular, was above borrowing even an oath, or an 
ejaculation, from another land. 

' Mr. Grey I wish that Frankfort could have 
been honoured by your presence yesterday,' said the 
Baron ; ' there really was an entertainment at the 
President's, which was not contemptible, and a fine 
display of women, a very fine display ! eh, de 

' Remarkably so indeed ! but what a room ! ' said 
the Chevalier, shrugging up his shoulders, and elevat- 
ing his eye-brows. 

* We want the saloon of Wisbaden here,' said the 
Baron ; ' with that, Frankfort might be endurable. 
As it is, I really must give up my appointment ; I 



cannot carry on public business in a city with such a 
saloon as we met in last night.' 

' The most imposing room, on the whole, that I 
ever was in,' said Prince Salvinski, ' is the chief hall of 
the Seraglio at Constantinople. It's a most magnifi- 
cent room.' 

' You have been in the interior of the seraglio 
then?' asked Vivian. 

* All over it, Sir, all over it ! The women unfor- 
tunately were not there ; they were at a summer 
palace on the Bosphorus, where they are taken 
regularly every year for an airing in large gold 

* And was the furniture of the room you are 
speaking of very gorgeous ?' 

' No, by no means ; a great deal of gilding and 
carving, but rude, rude ; very much like the exterior 
carving of a man of war ; nothing exquisite, I 
remember the floor was covered with carpets, which, 
by the by, were English. To give you an idea of the 
size of the room, it might have taken, perhaps, 
sixty of the largest carpets that you ever saw to cover 
the floor of it.' 

'Does your Highness take snuflF?' asked the 
Baron drily. 

' Thank you, no ; I've left off snuff" ever since I 
passed a winter at Baffin's Bay. You've no idea how 
very awkward an accidental sneeze is near the pole.' 

* Your Highness, I imagine, has been a great 
traveller ;' said Vivian, to the Baron's great annoy- 
ance. Unfortunately Vivian was not so much used 
to Prince Salvinski as his Excellency. 

' I have seen a little of most countries : these 
things are interesting enough when we are young ; 
but when we get a little more advanced in life, the 



novelty wears off, and the excitement ceases. I have 
been in all quarters of the globe. In Europe I have 
seen every thing except the miracles of Prince 
Hohenlohe. In Asia I have seen every thing except 
the ruins of Babylon. In Africa, I have seen every 
thing but Timbuctoo ; and in America, I have seen 
every thing except Croker's Mountains.' 

All this time the Austrian had not joined in the 
conversation ; not, however, because his mouth was 
shut that is never the fault of an Austrian. Count 
von Altenburgh had now, however, finished his 
breakfast. Next to eating, music is the business in 
which an Austrian is most interested. The Count 
having had the misfortune of destroying, for the 
present, one great source of his enjoyment, became 
very anxious to know what chance there existed of 
his receiving some consolation from the other. 
Flinging down his knife and fork, as if he estimated 
those instruments very slightly, now that their ser- 
vices were useless, and pushing his plate briskly from 
him, he demanded with an anxious air ' Can any 
gentleman inform me what chance there is of the 
Signora coming ?' 

' No news to-day,' said the Baron, with a mournful 
look ; ' I'm almost in despair ; what do you think 
of the last notes that have been interchanged?' 

* Very little chance,' said the Chevalier de 
Boeffleurs, shaking his head ; ' really these burghers, 
with all their affected enthusiasm, have managed the 
business exceedingly bad. No opera can possibly 
succeed, that is not conducted by a committee of 

' Certainly ! ' said the Baron ; ' we're sure then to 
have the best singers, and be in the Gazette the same 

s 273 


' Which is much better, I think, Von Konigstein, 
than paying our bills, and receiving no pleasure.' 

' But these burghers,' continued the Baron, ' these 
clumsy burghers, with their affected enthusiasm, as 
you well observe, who could have contemplated such 
novices in diplomacy ! Whatever may be the issue, 
I can at least lay my head upon my pillow, and feel 
that I have done my duty. Did not I, de Bceffleurs, 
first place the negociation on a basis of acknowledged 
feasibility and mutual benefit ? Who drew the pro- 
tocol, I should like to know? Who baffled the 
intrigues of the English Minister, the Lord Amelius 
Fitz-fudge Boroughby ? Who sat up one whole 
night with the Signora's friend, the Russian Envoy, 
Baron Squallonoff and who was it that first arranged 
about the extra chariot ? ' and here the representa- 
tive of a first rate German Power looked very much 
like a resigned patriot, who feels that he deserves a 

' No doubt of it, my dear von Konigstein,' echoed 
the French Charge d'Affaires, ' and I think, whatever 
may be the result, that I too may look back to this 
negociation with no ungratified feelings. Had the 
arrangement been left as I had wished, merely to 
the ministers of the Great Powers, I am confident 
that the Signora would have been singing this night 
in our Opera House.' 

* What is the grand point of difference at present ? ' 
asked the Austrian. 

* A most terrific one,' said the Baron ; * the lady 
demanded six-and-thirty covers, two tables, two car- 
riages, one of which I arranged should be a chariot ; 
that at least the town owes to me ; and, let me see, 
what else ? merely a town mansion and establishment. 
Exerting myself day and night, these terms were, at 



length, agreed to by the municipality, and the lady 
was to ride over from Darmstadt to sign and seal. 
In the course of her ride, she took a cursed fancy to 
the country villa of a great Jew banker, and since 
that moment the arrangement has g'one off. We 
have offered her every thing the commandant's 
country castle his lady's country farm the villa of 
the director of the Opera the retreat of our present 
prima donna all, all in vain. We have even hinted 
at a temporary repose in a neighbouring royal residence 
but all, all useless. The banker and the Signora 
are equally intractable, and Frankfort is in despair.' 

' She ought to have signed and sealed at Darm- 
stadt,' said the Count very indignantly. 

' To be sure ! they should have closed upon her 
caprice, and taken her when she was in the fancy.' 

' Talking of Opera girls,' commenced the Polish 
Prince, ' I remember the Countess Katszinski ' 

' Your Highness has nothing upon your plate,' 
quickly retorted the Baron, who was in no humour 
for a story. 

* Nothing more, I thank you,' continued the 
Prince : ' as I was saying, I remember the Countess 

'Mr. Brinkel!' announced the Chasseur; and the 
entrance of a very singular looking personage saved 
the company from the Pole's long story. 

Mr. Brinkel was a celebrated picture-dealer. He 
was a man about the middle size, with keen black 
eyes, a sharp nose rather unduly inclining to his 
right cheek, and which somewhat singular contortion 
was, perhaps, occasioned by an habitual and sardonic 
grin which constantly illuminated his features, and 
lit up his shining dark brown face, which was of 
much the same tint as one of his own varnished, 



' deep-toned ' modern antiques. There were odd 
stories about, respecting Mr. Brinkel, and his ' un- 
doubted originals,' in which invaluable pieces of 
property he alone professed to deal. But the Baron 
von Konigstein was, at any rate, not one of Mr. 
Brinkel's victims ; and his Excellency was among the 
rare few, whom a picture-dealer knows it is in vain to 
attempt to take in ; he was an amateur who thoroughly 
understood art, one of the rarest characters in exis- 
tence. The Baron and Brinkel were, however, great 
friends ; and at the present moment the picture- 
dealer was assisting the diplomatist in the accomplish- 
ment of a very crafty and splendid plan. Baron von 
Konigstein, for various reasons, which shall now be 
nameless, was generally in want of money. Now the 
Baron, tired with his perpetual shifts, determined to 
make a fortune at one great coup. He had been in 
England, and was perfectly aware of the rising feeling 
for the arts which at the present moment daily 
flourishes in this country. The Baron was generous 
enough to determine materially to assist in the forma- 
tion of our national taste. He was, himself, forming 
at a cheap rate a very extensive collection of original 
pictures, which he intended to sell at an enormous 
price, to the National Gallery. Brinkel, in order to 
secure the entree of the Baron's room, which afforded 
various opportunities of getting off his ' undoubted ' 
originals on English and Russian travellers, was in 
return assisting the minister in his great operation, 
and acted as his general agent in the affair, on which 
he was also to get a respectable commission. This 
business was, of course, altogether a close secret. 

And now, before Mr. Brinkel opens his mouth, I 
may, perhaps, be allowed to say a few words upon a 
subject, in which we are all interested. We are now 



forming, at great expense, and with greater anxiety, a 
National Gallery. What is the principal object of 
such an Institution ? Doubtless to elevate the pro- 
ductions of our own school, by affording our artists 
an opportunity of becoming acquainted with the 
works of the great masters who have preceded them. 
Why, then, have we deviated from the course which 
has been pursued in the formation of all other 
National Galleries. There we shall see arranged in 
chronological order, specimens of the art in all ages, 
from the period in which Cimabue rescued it from 
the Greek painters, unto the present time. The ex- 
cellent is doubtless to be conceived in the study of 
the excellent ; but we should always remember, that 
excellence is relative, and that to the philosopher, the 
frescos of Masaccio, are perhaps more marvellous 
than the frescos of the Vatican. Introduce a young 
and inexperienced painter to the Assumption of 
Titian, the Madonna della Pieta of Guido, the Leo 
of Raffael, the St. Jerome of Domenichino ; and, 
instead of being incited and inspired, he will leave 
the chamber in despair. But, before he witnesses 
these miracles, let him trace on the walls of the 
gallery, the history of his art. Let him view the 
first hazardous efforts of the inexperienced, wavering, 
and timid pencil, depicting mummies, rather than 
men sticks, rather than trees : let him view the un- 
relieved surface the ill-proportioned extremities 
the harsh and unsubdued tints ; then let him watch 
perspective, stealing into the back-ground; let him 
witness the attenuated forms falling into graceless, 
but energetic groups ; let him admire the first decep- 
tion of chiaro 'scuro ; then bring him to the correct 
design, the skilful foreshortening, the exact ex- 
tremities ; to the rounded limb to the breathing 



mouth to the kindled eye to the moving group ! 
Add to these all the magic of colour, and lo ! a grand 
picture. We stand before the work with admiring 
awe ; forgetting the means in the result ; the artist, 
in the creator. 

Thus gradually, I repeat, should our young artist 
be introduced to the great masters, whom then the 
wise pride of human nature would incite him to 
imitate. Then too, he would feel that to become a 
great artist he must also become a great student ; 
that no sudden inspiration produced the virgins of 
Raffael ; that, by slow degrees, by painful observa- 
tion, by diligent comparison, by frequent experiment, 
by frequent failure, by the experience of many styles, 
the examination of all schools, the scholar of Peru- 
gino won for himself a name, than which no one is 
more deeply graven on Fame's eternal tablets. 

For half the sum that we are giving for a sus- 
picious Corregio, the young English artist would be 
able to observe all this, and the efforts of the early 
Germans to boot. I make these observations with 
no disposition to disparage the management of our 
gallery ; nor in that carping humour, which some 
think it safe to assume, when any new measure is 
proposed, or is being carried into execution. I know 
the difficulties that the Directors have to contend 
with. I know the greater difficulties that await 
them ; and I have made these observations, because 
I believe there is a due disposition, in the proper 
quarter, to attend to honest suggestions ; and because 
I feel, that the true interests of the Arts, have, at this 
present time, in our Monarch, a steady, a sincere, 
and powerful advocate ; one, who in spite of the 
disheartening opposition of vulgar clamour, and un- 
educated prejudice, has done more in a short reign 



for the patronage of the fine Arts than all the 
dynasties of all the Medicis, Roman and Florentine, 
together. And now for Mr. Brinkel. 

' My dear Baron ! ' commenced the picture-dealer ; 
and here seeing strangers he pulled up, in order to 
take a calm view of the guests, and see whether there 
were any unpleasant faces among them ; any gentle- 
men to whom he had sold a Leonardo da Vinci, or a 
Salvator Rosa. All looking very strange, and ex- 
tremely amiable, Mr. Brinkel felt reassured, and 

' My dear Baron ! merely a few words.' 

' Oh, my dear Brinkel ! proceed proceed.' 

' Another time ; your Excellency is engaged at 

' My dear Brinkel ! before these gentlemen you 
may say any thing.' 

' Your Excellency's so kind ! ' continued Mr. 
Brinkel, though with a hesitating voice, as if he 
thought that when the nature of the communica- 
tion was known, the Baron might repent his over 
confidence. ' Your Excellency's so kind ! ' 

' My dear little Rembrandt, you may really say 
any thing' 

' Well then,' continued he, half hesitating, and half 
in a whisper ; ' may it please your Excellency, I 
merely stepped in to say, that I am secretly, but 
credibly informed, that there is a man just arrived 
from Italy, with a marble Pieta of Michel Angelo, 
stolen from a church in Genoa. The fact is not yet 
known, even to the police ; and long before the 
Sardinian minister can apply for the acquirer's appre- 
hension, he will be safely stowed in one of my 

' A marble Pieta ! by Michel Angelo,' exclaimed 



the Prince, with great eagerness. The Polish noble- 
man had a commission from the imperial Viceroy of 
his country, to make purchases of all exquisite speci- 
mens of art that he could meet with ; as the Imperial 
government was very desirous of reforming the taste 
of the nation in matters of art, which indeed was in a 
particularly depraved state. Caricatures had been 
secretly circulated in the highest circles of Warsaw 
and Wilna, in which the Emperor and his ministers 
did not look quite as dignified as when shrouded in 
the sacred sanctuary of the Kremlin ; and although 
the knout, the wheel, and Siberia suppressed these 
little intemperances for the moment, still it was 
imagined by the prime minister, who chanced to be 
a philosopher, that the only method of permanent 
prevention was directing the public taste to the study 
of the beautiful ; and that therefore the only mode of 
saving the Sovereign from being squibbed, was the 
formation of a national gallery. Ours, therefore, is 
not the only infant institute. 

' A marble Pieta, by Michel Angelo ! ' exclaimed 
the Prince ; ' but a great price, I suppose, demanded ? ' 

1 Dear but cheap ; ' oracularly answered Mr. 
Brinkel : and the sinistral fore-finger was signifi- 
cantly applied to the left side of his nose. 

' I confess I am no extravagant admirer of Michel 
Angelo,' said the Baron. ' In the sacred shades of 
Santa Croce, Sculpture, Painting, and Architecture 
mourn him as their lost master. Poetry might have 
been added to the charming Sisters. But in all these 
glorious arts, though his performances were remark- 
able, they were not miraculous ; and I look in vain 
for any production of Michel Angelo, which per se 
stamps him as a master spirit. 

' It was his custom to treat sculpture as his pro- 


fession, and in his profession he has left scarcely one 
finished work. The tombs of the Medicis are not 
completed, and although there is a mysterious and 
undefinable moral in his ' Night and Day,' which 
may attract the contemplative, and interest the poet, 
yet I imagine few, who have preconceived that 
monument from the written descriptions, have looked 
on the original without disappointment. His Moses, 
and for a moment I will grant that the legislator is as 
sublime as his warmest admirers maintain, is only 
one finished figure of a monument, in which it was 
to have been not the most remarkable. But what, if 
this statue be only a kindred personification of the 
same conception which he has depicted in the brawny 
prophets of theSistine chapel, where it would seem that 
the artist had mistaken contortion for inspiration, and 
largeness of stature for dilation of soul ! His marble 
Pietas and Madonnas unfinished, abound in the 
Italian churches ; and though I grant a striking 
simplicity is often observable in the countenances of 
his virgins, yet that simplicity is often severe, and 
sometimes sullen. We look in vain for the subdued 
loveliness of the mother of God for that celestial 
resignation which is not akin to despair. As for the 
corpse, it might suit the widow's child, or the 
deceased Lazarus ; and if not always absolutely 
vulgar, the face is at best but that of a young, and 
not very intellectual Rabbi. If we turn from sacred 
subjects to ancient mythology, I cannot forget that 
Michel Angelo was the first artist who dared to 
conceive a god as less than a man ; and in his 
" Drunken Bacchus," presented us with the sove- 
reign of the grape, as the slave of his own subject, 
in a position too clumsy for a Faun, and too dull 
for a Silenus ! 


* Although sculpture was the profession of Michel 
Angelo, he is still more esteemed by his admirers as 
a painter. Notwithstanding Sir Joshua Reynolds 
ranks him even above Raffael, it seems now pretty 
well understood that his fame as a painter must 
depend upon his Roman frescos, and his one oil 
painting the Holy Family at Florence. Whether 
this painting really be in oil is doubtful, but that is 
of little moment. I will only ask, what mind un- 
prejudiced by the doctrines, and uncontaminated by 
the babble of schools, has looked upon that boasted 
treasure of the Tribune, with any other feeling except 
disgust ? Where is the divinity of the boy ? Where 
the inspiration of the mother ? Where the proud 
felicity of the human husband ? 

1 Of fresco-painting, Michel Angelo was confes- 
sedly ignorant, and once threw down the brush in 
disgust at his own incompetence. The theorist of 
art still finds some plan, and order, lurking in the 
inexplicable arrangement of the Sistine ceiling ; but 
while he consoles himself for the absence of the more 
delightful effects of art, by conjuring up a philoso- 
phical arrangement of the prophets, and a solution of 
the dark mysteries of theocracy, he turns in silence 
from the walls, gloomy with the frightless purgatory, 
and the unexhilarating paradise of ' The last Judg- 
ment ; ' where the Gothic conceptions of the middle 
ages are again served up in the favourite temple of 
modern Rome, and in a manner in which crude 
composition seems only to be exceeded by confused 
aVrangement in which the distraced eye turns to a 
thousand points, and is satisfied by none wearied 
with tints, which though monotonous, are not sub- 
dued, and which possessing none of the attractions of 
colour, seem cursed with all its faults. 



' Michel Angelo was not educated as an architect ; 
but an Italian, and a man of genius, may become a 
great architect, even without an education. Let us 
briefly examine his works. The domestic architec- 
ture of Florence is due to him ; and if we complain 
of palaces, which look like prisons, and lament the 
perpetual presence of rustic bossages, we are told 
that the plans of Michel Angelo were dictated by the 
necessities of the times ; and that, in his age, it was 
absolutely requisite that every palace should be pre- 
pared to become a fortress. If this be admitted as 
a valid excuse for the absence of beauty, it is against 
all principles of logic, that, because in these structures 
beauty was incompatible with safety, Michel Angelo 
could therefore have conceived the beautiful. In the 
chapel of the Medicis, we in vain look for the 
master, where is that happy union of the sciences 
of the harmony of proportion, and the harmony of 
combination, which mark the great architect ! where 
the harmonious whole consisting of parts beautiful in 
detail, and unobtrusive in effect ! We see only a 
dungeon, at once clumsy and confined. 

' If we turn from Florence to Rome, who is there 
to defend the complexities of the Capitoline Galleries, 
and the absurdities of the Porta Pia ? We approach 
St. Peter's : although the work of many artists, the 
design of Michel Angelo has, on the whole, been 
very faithfully adhered to. That St. Peter's is 
magnificent, who can deny ? but how could such 
a mass of stone, and masonry, and architectural 
embellishment, such a blaze of gilding, marbles, and 
mosaics, be otherwise than magnificent ? We must 
not be deceived by the first impression of a general 
effect which could not be avoided. It is acknow- 
ledged that this church, which is the largest in 



Christendom ; which required so many years for its 
erection ; which exhausted the Papal treasures, and 
endangered the Papal dominion ; affects the mind 
of the entering stranger, neither with its sublimity, 
nor its grandeur; and presents no feature which 
would lead him to suppose, that he was standing in 
the most celebrated temple in Europe. All our 
travellers and writers, who have alike experienced 
disappointment on entering this famous building, 
have attempted to account for this effect, by attri- 
buting the cause to the exactness of the proportions. 
But this is like excusing a man's ignorance, by as- 
suring you that he has received a regular education. 
If exactness of proportion produce poverty of effect, 
exactness of proportion ceases to be a merit ; but is 
this true ? What lover of Palladio can deny that it 
is the business of the great architect to produce 
striking and chaste effects, from poor and limited 
materials ; and that exactness of proportion satisfying 
the mind, and not forcing it to ask for more, does 
in fact make that which is less appear greater, and 
that which is great, immense. 

* But if I mention the faults of Michel Angelo, I 
am bid to remember the early period of art in which 
he lived ; I am reminded of the mean elevations of 
those who preceded him of the tone which he gave 
to the conceptions of his successors. Yet many 
celebrated sculptors were his contemporaries, and 
surely Leonardo da Vinci was not the scholar of his 
genius. But in painting, especially, he was preceded 
by Fra Bartolomeo, a miraculous artist ; who, while 
in his meek Madonnas he has only been equalled by 
Raffael, has produced in his St. Mark his Job 
and his Isaiah creations which might have entitled 
him to the panegyrics which Posterity has so liber- 



ally bestowed upon the sculptor of Moses, and the 
painter of the Sistine Chapel. 

' In architecture, I will not notice Brunelleschi ; 
but let me mention this astonishing fact : San 
Michele was born only nine or ten years after 
Michel Angelo, and as he died a few years before 
him, may be considered his exact contemporary. 
While the chapel of the Medicis was erected at 
Florence, at Verona, in the chapel of the Pellegrini, 
San Michele was reproducing ancient beauty, in com- 
binations unknown to the antique. While the bar- 
baric absurdities of the Porta Pia disgraced the capi- 
tal of the Papal state, San Michele produced in the 
Porta Stupa a structure worthy of ancient Rome. 
And while Michel Angelo was raising palaces for his 
Florentine contemporaries, whose dark and rugged 
elevations are to be excused, on account of the 
necessity of their being impregnable to the assaults 
of popular tumult, the streets of Verona, the constant 
seat of sedition, were filling under the direction of 
San Michele, with numberless palaces, which, while 
they defended their owners alike among the dangers of 
civil broils and foreign invasion, at the same time pre- 
sented elevations which, for their varied beauty, and 
classic elegance, have only been equalled by Palladio ! ' 

Nothing is more delightful than to hear the sound 
of our own voice. The Baron's lecture was rather 
long, but certainly unlike most other lecturers, he 
understood his subject. Before Vivian could venture 
an observation in defence of the great Florentine, the 
door opened, and Ernstorff handed a dispatch to the 
Baron, recommending it to his Excellency's particular 

' Business, I suppose,' said the Plenipotentiary : * it 
may wait till to morrow.' 



' From M. Clarionet, your Excellency.' 

' From M. Clarionet !' eagerly exclaimed the 
Baron, and tore open the epistle. ' Gentlemen ! 
gentlemen ! gentlemen ! congratulate me congratu- 
late yourselves congratulate Frankfort such news 
it is really too much for me,' and the diplomatist, 
overcome, leant back in his chair. ' She is ours, 
Salvinski ! she is ours, Von Altenburgh ! she is ours, 
my dear de Bosffleurs ! Grey, you're the happiest 
fellow in Christendom ; the Signora has signed and 
sealed all is arranged she sings to-night ! What 
a fine spirited body is this Frankfort municipality ! 
what elevation of soul ! what genuine enthusiasm ! 
eh ! de Bceffleurs ! ' 

' Most genuine ! ' exclaimed the Chevalier, who 
hated German music with all his heart, and was now 
humming an air from the Dame Blanche. 

' But mind, my dear fellows this is a secret, a 
cabinet secret the municipality are to have the grati- 
fication of announcing the event to the city in a 
public decree it is but fair. I feel that I have only 
to hint, to secure your silence.' 

At this moment, with a thousand protestations of 
secrecy, the party broke up, each hastening to have 
the credit of first spreading the joyful intelligence 
through their circles, and of depriving the Frankfort 
senate of their hard-earned gratification. The Baron, 
who was in high spirits, ordered the carriage to drive 
Vivian round the ramparts, where he was to be in- 
troduced to some of the most fashionable beauties, 
previous to the evening triumph. Mr. Brinkel, dis- 
appointed at present of increasing, through the assist- 
ance of the Polish Prince, any collection in the North, 
directed his subtle steps up another flight of the 
staircase of the Roman Emperor, where lodged an 



English gentleman, for whom Mr. Brinkel had a 
very exquisite morfeau; having received the night 
before from Florence a fresh consignment of Carlo 


VIVIAN passed a week very agreeably at Frankfort. 
In the Baron and his friends he found the companions 
that he had need of; their conversation and pursuits 
diverted his mind without engaging his feelings, and 
allowed him no pause to think. There were moments, 
indeed, when he found in the Baron a companion 
neither frivolous nor uninstructive. His Excellency 
had travelled in most countries, and had profited by 
his travels. His taste for the fine arts was equalled 
by his knowledge of them ; and his acquaintance 
with many of the most eminent men of Europe 
enriched his conversation with a variety of anecdotes, 
to which his lively talents did ample justice. He 
seemed fond, at times, of showing Vivian that he 
was not a mere artificial man of the world, destitute 
of all feelings, and thinking only of himself: he re- 
curred with satisfaction to moments of his life, when 
his passions had been in full play ; and, while he 
acknowledged the errors of his youth with candour, 
he excused them with grace. In short, Vivian and 
he became what the world calls friends; that is to 
say, they were men who had no objection to dine in 
each other's company, provided the dinner were good ; 
assist each other in any scrape, provided no particular 
personal responsibility were incurred by the assistant ; 
and live under the same roof, provided each were 
master of his own time. Vivian and the Baron, 
indeed, did more than this they might have been 
described as very particular friends for his Excellency 



had persuaded our hero to accompany him for the 
summer to the Baths of Ems, a celebrated German 
watering place, situated in the duchy of Nassau, in 
the vicinity of the Rhine. 

On the morrow they were to commence their 
journey. The fair of Frankfort, which had now 
lasted nearly a month, was at its close. A bright 
sun-shiny afternoon was stealing into twilight, when 
Vivian escaping from the principal street, and the 
attractions of the Braunfels, or chief shops under the 
Exchange, directed his steps to some of the more 
remote and ancient streets. In crossing a little 
square, his attention was excited by a crowd, which 
had assembled round a conjuror ; who from the top 
of a small cart, which he had converted into a stage, 
was haranguing, in front of a green curtain, an 
audience with great fervency, and apparently with 
great effect ; at least Vivian judged so, from the 
loud applauses which constantly burst forth. The 
men pressed nearer, shouted, and clapped their 
hands ; and the anxious mothers struggled to lift 
their brats higher in the air, that they might early 
form a due conception of the powers of magic ; and 
learn that the maternal threats which were sometimes 
extended to them at home, were not mere idle 
boasting. Altogether the men with their cocked 
hats, stiff holiday coats, and long pipes ; the women 
with their glazed gowns of bright fancy patterns, 
close lace caps, or richly chased silver headgear ; and 
the children with their gaping mouths and long heads 
of hair, offered very quaint studies for a Flemish 
painter. Vivian became also one of the audience, 
and not an uninterested one. 

The appearance of the conjuror was very peculiar. 
He was not much more than five feet high, but so 



slightly formed, that he reminded you rather of the 
boy, than the dwarf. The upper part of his face 
was even delicately moulded ; his sparkling black eye 
became his round forehead, which was not too much 
covered by his short glossy black hair ; his complexion 
was clear, but quite olive ; his nose was very small 
and straight, and contrasted singularly with his 
enormous mouth, the thin bluish lips of which were 
seldom closed, and consequently did not conceal his 
large square teeth, which, though very white, were 
set apart, and were so solid that they looked almost 
like double teeth. This enormous mouth, which 
was supported by large jawbones, attracted the 
attention of the spectator so keenly that it was some 
time before you observed the prodigious size of the 
ears, which also adorned this extraordinary coun- 
tenance. The costume of this singular being was 
not less remarkable than his natural appearance. 
He wore a complete under-dress of pliant leather, 
which fitted close up to his throat, and down to his 
wrists and ankles, where it was clasped with large 
fastenings either of gold or some gilt material. 
This, with the addition of a species of hussar jacket 
of green cloth, which was quite unadorned, with the 
exception of its vivid red lining, was the sole covering 
of the conjuror; who, with a light cap and feather in 
his hand, was now haranguing the spectators. The 
object of the discourse was a panegyric of himself, 
and a satire on all other conjurors. He was the 
only conjuror the real conjuror a worthy descen- 
dant of the magicians of old. 

* Were I to tell that broad-faced Heer,' continued 

the conjuror, ' who is now gaping opposite to me, 

that this rod is the rod of Aaron, mayhap he would 

call me a liar ; yet were I to tell him that he was the 

T 289 


son of his father, he would not think it wonderful ! 
And yet, can he prove it ? My friends, if I am a 
liar, the whole world is a liar and yet any one of 
you who'll go and proclaim that on the Braunfels, 
will get his skull cracked. Every truth is not to be 
spoken, and every lie is not to be punished. I've 
told you that it's better for you to spend your money 
in seeing my tricks, than it is in swigging schnaps in 
the chimney corner ; and yet, my friends, this may 
be a lie. I've told you that the profits of this whole 
night shall be given to some poor and worthy person 
in this town; and perhaps I shall give them to my- 
self. What then ! I shall speak the truth ; and you 
will perhaps crack my skull. Is this a reward for 
truth ? Oh, generation of vipers ! My friends, 
what is truth ? who can find it in Frankfort ? Sup- 
pose I call upon you, Mr. Baker, and sup with you 
this evening ; you will receive me as a neighbourly 
man should, tell me to make myself at home, and do 
as I like. Is it not so ? I see you smile, as if my 
visit would make you bring out one of the bottles of 
your best Asmanshausen ! ' 

Here the crowd laughed out ; for we are always 
glad when there is talk of another's hospitality being 
put to the test, although we stand no chance of 
sharing in the entertainment ourselves. The baker 
looked foolish, as all men singled out in a crowd do. 

'Well, well,' continued the conjuror; 'I've no 
doubt his wine would be as ready as your tobacco, 
Mr. Smith ; or a wafila from your basket, my honest 
Cake-seller ; ' and so saying, with a peculiarly long 
thin wand, the conjuror jerked up the basket of an 
itinerant and shouting Pastry-cook, and immediately 
began to thrust the contents into his mouth with a 
rapidity ludicrously miraculous. The laugh now 



burst out again, but the honest baker joined in it 
this time with an easy spirit. 

' Be not disconcerted, my little custard-monger ; 
if thou art honest, thou shalt prosper. Did I not 
say that the profits of this night were for the most 
poor, and the most honest ? If thy stock in trade 
were in thy basket, my raspberry-puff, verily you 
are not now the richest here ; and so, therefore, if 
your character be a fair one that is to say, if you 
only cheat five times a-day, and give a tenth of your 
cheatery to the poor, you shall have the benefit. I 
ask you again, what is truth ? If I sup with the 
baker, and he tells me to do what I like with all that 
is his, and I kiss his wife, he will kick me out ; yet 
to kiss his wife might be my pleasure, if her breath 
were sweet. I ask you again, what is truth ? Truth 
they say lies in a well ; but perhaps this is a lie. 
How do we know that truth is not in one of these 
two boxes ?' asked the conjuror, placing his cap on 
his head, and holding one small snufF-box to a tall 
savage-looking one-eyed Bohemian, who, with a 
comrade, had walked over from the Austrian garrison 
at Mentz. 

' I see but one box,' growled the soldier. 

* It is because thou hast only one eye, friend ; open 
the other, and thou shalt see two,' said the conjuror, 
in a slow malicious tone, with his neck extended, and 
his hand with the hateful box outstretched on it. 

* Now, by our black lady of Altoting, I'll soon 
stop thy prate, chitterling ! ' bellowed the enraged 

' Murder ! murder ! murder ! the protection of 
the free city against the Emperor of Austria, the 
King of Bohemia, Hungary, and Lombardy ! ' and 
the knave retreated to the very extremity of the 



stage, and affecting the most agitating fear, hid him- 
self behind the green curtain, from a side of which 
his head was alone visible, or rather an immense red 
tongue, which wagged in all shapes at the unlucky 
soldier, except when it retired to the interior of his 
mouth, to enable him to reiterate ' Murder ! ' and 
invoke the privileges of the free city of Frankfort. 

When the soldier was a little cooled, the conjuror 
again came forward ; and, having moved his small 
magical table to a corner, and lit two tapers, one ot 
which he placed at each side of the stage, he stripped 
off his hussar jacket, and began to imitate a monkey ; 
an animal which, by the faint light, in his singular 
costume, he very much resembled. How amusing 
were his pranks ! He first plundered a rice planta- 
tion, and then he cracked cocoa-nuts; then he 
washed his face, and arranged his toilet with his right 
paw ; and finally, he ran a race with his own tail, 
which humorous appendage to his body was very 
wittily performed for the occasion, by a fragment of 
an old tarred rope. His gambols were so diverting, 
that they even extracted applause from his enemy 
the one-eyed serjeant ; and, emboldened by the 
acclamations, from monkeys the conjuror began to 
imitate men. He first drank like a Dutchman, and 
having reeled round with a thousand oaths to the 
manifold amusement of the crowd, he suddenly 
began to smoke like a Prussian. Nothing could be 
more admirable than the look of complacent and 
pompous stolidity with which he accompanied each 
puff of the cigar. The applause was continued ; and 
the one-eyed Bohemian serjeant, delighted at the 
ridicule which was heaped on his military rival, 
actually threw the mimic some groschen. 

'Keep your pence, friend,' said the conjuror; 



' you'll soon owe me more ; we have not yet closed 
accounts. My friends, I have drank like a Dutch- 
man ; I have smoked like a Prussian ; and now I 
will eat like an Austrian ! ' and here the immense 
mouth of the actor seemed distended even a hundred 
degrees bigger, while with gloating eyes and extended 
arms, he again set to at the half-emptied wafila basket 
of the unhappy pastry-cook. 

' Now, by our black Lady of Altoting, thou art 
an impudent varlet! ' growled the Austrian soldier. 

' You are losing your temper again,' retorted the 
glutton, with his mouth full ; * how difficult you are 
to please ! Well, then, if the Austrians may not be 
touched, what say you to a Bohemian a tall one- 
eyed Bohemian serjeant, with an appetite like a hog, 
and a liver like a lizard ? ' 

* Now, by our black Lady of Altoting, this is too 
much ! ' and the frantic soldier sprang at the conjuror. 

' Hold him ! hold him ! ' cried Vivian Grey ; for 
the mob, frightened at the soldier, gave way. 

* There is a gentle's voice under a dark cloak ! ' 
cried the conjuror ; ' but I want no assistance ; ' and 
so saying, with a dexterous spring, the conjuror leapt 
over the heads of two or three staring children, and 
lighted on the nape of the Serjeant's gigantic neck; 
placing his forefingers behind each of the soldier's 
ears, he threatened to slit them immediately, if he 
were not quiet. The Serjeant's companion, of course, 
came to his rescue, but Vivian engaged him, and 
attempted to arrange matters. ' My friends, my 
friends, surely a gay word at a kermis is not to meet 
with military punishment ! What is the use of living 
in the free city of Frankfort, or, indeed, in any other 
city, if jokes are to be answered with oaths, and a 
light laugh met with a heavy blow ? Avoid blood- 



shed, if possible; but stand by the conjuror. His 
business is gibes and jests, and this is the first time 
that I ever saw Merry Andrew arrested. Come, 
come, my good fellows ! ' said he to the soldiers, ' we 
had better be off: men so important as you and I 
should not be spectators of these mummeries.' The 
Austrians, who understood Vivian's compliment lite- 
rally, were not sorry to make a dignified retreat ; 
particularly as the mob, encouraged by Vivian's inter- 
ference, began to show fight. Vivian also took his 
departure as soon as he could possibly steal off un- 
noticed; but not before he had been thanked by the 

' I knew there was gentle blood under that cloak ! 
If you like to see the Mystery of the Crucifixion, 
with the Resurrection, and real fire-works, it 
begins at eight o'clock, and you shall be admitted 
gratis. I knew there was gentle blood under that 
cloak, and some day or other, when your Highness 
is in distress, you shall not want the aid of ESSPER 


IT was late in the evening, when a britchka stopped 
at the post-house of Coblentz. M. Maas, whom all 
English travellers must remember, for all must have 
experienced his genuine kindness, greeted its two 
inmates with his usual hospitality : but regretted that, 
as his house was very full, his Excellency must have 
the condescension to sup in the public-room. The 
passage-boat from Bingen had just arrived ; and a 
portly judge from the Danube, a tall, gaunt Prussian 
officer, a sketching English artist, two University 
students, and three or four travelling cloth-merchants, 
chiefly returning from Frankfort-fair, were busily 



occupied at a long table in the centre of the room, 
at an ample banquet, in which sour-crout, cherry 
soup, and very savory sausages were not wanting. 
So keen were the appetites, and so intense the atten- 
tion of these worthies, that the entrance of the new 
comers was scarcely noticed ; and the Baron and his 
friend seated themselves very quietly at a small table 
in the corner of the room, where they waited with 
due patience for the arrival of one of Monsieur Maas' 
exquisite little suppers ; although hunger, more than 
once, nearly induced them to join the table of the 
boat's-crew ; but as the Baron facetiously observed, 
a due terror of the Prussian officer, who, the moment 
they arrived, took care to help himself to every dish 
at table, and a proper respect for ErnstorfF prevented 
a consummation which they devoutly wished for. 

For half an hour nothing was heard but the sound 
of crashing jaws, and of rattling knives and forks. 
How singular is the sight of a dozen hungry in- 
dividuals intent upon their prey ! what a noisy 
silence ! A human voice was at length heard. It 
proceeded from the fat judge from the Danube. He 
was a man at once convivial, dignified, and eco- 
nomical : he had not spoke for two minutes before his 
character was evident to every person in the room, 
although he flattered himself that his secret purpose 
was concealed from all. Tired with the thin Moselle 
which M. Maas gratuitously allowed to the table, 
the convivial judge from the Danube wished to com- 
fort himself with a glass of more generous liquor ; 
aware of the price of a bottle of good Rudesheimer, 
the economical judge from the Danube was desirous 
of forming a co-partnership with one or two gentle- 
men in the bottle ; still more aware of his exalted 
situation, the dignified judge from the Danube felt 



it did not become him to appear in the eyes of any 
one as an unsuccessful suppliant. 

'This Moselle is very thin,' observed the judge, 
shaking his head. 

' Very fair table-wine, I think,' said the artist, re- 
filling his tumbler, and then proceeding with his 
sketch, which was a rough likeness, in black chalk, 
of the worthy magistrate himself. 

* Very good wine, I think,' swore the Prussian, 
taking the bottle. With the officer there was cer- 
tainly no chance. 

The cloth-merchants mixed even this thin Moselle 
with water, and therefore they could hardly be looked 
to as boon companions ; and the students were alone 
left. A German student is no flincher at the bottle, 
although he generally drinks beer. These gentry, 
however, were no great favourites with the magis- 
trate, who was a loyal man, of regular habits, and 
no encourager of brawls, duels, and other still more 
disgraceful outrages; to all which abominations, 
besides drinking beer and chewing tobacco, the 
German student is most remarkably addicted ; but 
in the present case, what was to be done ? He offered 
the nearest a pinch of snuff, as a mode of commenc- 
ing his acquaintance, and cultivating his complaisance. 
The German student dug his thumb into the box, and 
with the additional aid of the fore-finger sweeping 
out half its contents, growled out something like 
thanks, and then drew up in his seat, as if he had 
too warmly encouraged the impertinent intrusion of 
a Philistine, to whom he had never been introduced. 

The cloth-merchant ceasing from sipping his meek 
liquor, and taking out of his pocket a letter, from 
which he tore off the back, carefully commenced 
collecting with his fore-finger the particles of dis- 



persed snuff in a small pyramid, which, when formed, 
was dexterously slided into the paper, then folded up 
and put into his pocket ; the prudent merchant con- 
tenting himself for the moment with the refreshment 
which was afforded to his senses by the truant 
particles which had remained in his nail. 

" Kelner ! ' never call a German waiter Garfon, 
or else you'll stand a chance of going supperless to- 
bed ; ' Kelner ! a bottle of Rudesheimer ! ' bellowed 
the convivial judge from the Danube ; ' and if any 
gentleman or gentlemen would like to join me, they 
may;' added the economical judge from the Danube, 
in a more subdued tone. No one answered, and the 
bottle was put down. The judge slowly poured out 
the bright yellow fluid into a tall bell glass, adorned 
with a beautiful and encircling wreath of vine leaves : 
he held the glass a moment before the lamp, for his 
eye to dwell with still greater advantage on the 
transparent radiancy of the contents ; and then 
deliberately pouring them down his throat, and 
allowing them to dwell a moment on his palate, he 
uttered an emphatic 'bahf and sucking in his 
breath, leant back in his chair. The student imme- 
diately poured out a glass from the same bottle, and 
drank it off. The dignified judge from the Danube 
gave him a look ; the economical judge from the 
Danube blessed himself that though his boon com- 
panion was a brute, still he would lessen the expense 
of the bottle, which nearly amounted to a day's pay ; 
and the convivial judge from the Danube again filled 
his glass but this was merely to secure his fair por- 
tion. He saw the student was a rapid drinker ; and, 
although he did not like to hurry his own enjoyment, 
he thought it most prudent to keep his glass well 
stored by his side. 



' I hope your Highnesses have had a pleasant 
voyage,' halloed out a man, entering the room very 
rapidly as he spoke ; and deliberately walking up to 
the table, he pushed between two of the cloth mer- 
chants, who quietly made way ; and then placing a 
small square box before him, he immediately opened 
it, and sweeping aside all the dishes and glasses which 
surrounded him, he began to fill their places with 
cups, balls, rings, and other mysterious-looking 
matters, which generally accompany a conjuror. 

' I hope your Highnesses have had a pleasant 
voyage. I've been thinking of you all the day. 
(Here the cups were arranged.) Next to myself, 
I'm interested for my friends. (Here the rice was 
sprinkled.) I came from Fairy-land this morning. 
(Here the trick was executed.) Will any gentleman 
lend me a handkerchief ? Now, Sir, tie any knot you 
choose : tighter tighter tight as you can tight as 
you can : now pull ! Why, Sir, where's your 
knot ?' Here most of the company good-naturedly 
laughed at a trick which had amused them before a 
hundred times. But the dignified judge from the 
Danube had no taste for such trivial amusements ; 
and, besides, the convivial judge from the Danube 
thought that all this noise spoilt the pleasure of his 
wine, and prevented him from catching the flavour of 
his Rudesheimer. Moreover, the judge from the 
Danube was not in a very good humour. The 
German student appeared to have very little idea of 
the rules and regulations of a fair partnership ; for 
not only did he not regulate his draughts by the 
moderate example of his bottle companion, but 
actually filled the glass of his University friend, 
and even offered the precious green flask to his 
neighbour, the cloth-merchant. That humble indi- 



vidual modestly refused the proffer. The very 
unexpected circumstance of having his health drank 
by a stranger seemed alone to have produced a great 
impression upon him ; and adding a little more water 
to his already diluted potation, he bowed most 
reverently to the student, who, in return, did not 
notice him. All these little circumstances prevented 
the judge from the Danube from being in his usual 
condescending and amiable humour, and therefore 
the judge from the Danube did not laugh at the 
performances of our friend Essper George : for I 
need hardly mention that the conjuror was no other 
than that quaint personage. His ill-humour did not 
escape the lord of the cups and balls ; who, as was 
his custom, immediately began to torment him. 

'Will your Highness choose a card?' asked the 
magician of the judge, with a most humble look. 

This was too much for the magistrate, 

'No, Sir!' 

Essper George looked very penitently, as if he felt 
he had taken a great liberty by his application ; and 
so to compensate for his incorrect behaviour, he 
asked the magistrate whether he would have the 
goodness to lend him his watch. The judge was 
very irate, and determined to give the intruder a set 

' No, Sir ; I am not one of those who can be 
amused by tricks that his grandfather knew.' 

' Grandfather ! ' shrieked Essper ; ' what a won- 
derful grandfather your's must have been ! All my 
tricks are fresh from Fairy-land this morning. 
Grandfather, indeed ! Pray, is this your grand- 
father?' and here the conjuror, leaning over the 
table, with a rapid catch drew out from the fat paunch 
of the judge, a long, grinning wooden figure, with 



great staring eyes, and the parrot nose of a pulcinello. 
The laugh which followed this humorous specimen 
of sleight-of-hand was loud, long, and universal. 
The judge lost his temper ; and Essper George took 
the opportunity of the confusion to drink off the 
glass of Rudesheimer, which stood, as we have men- 
tioned, ready-charged at the magistrate's elbow. 

The kelner now went round to collect the money 
of the various guests who had partaken of the boat- 
supper ; and, of course, charged the judge extra for 
his ordered bottle, bowing at the same time very low, 
as was proper to so good a customer. These little 
attentions at inns encourage expenditure. The judge 
tried at the same time the bottle, which he found 
empty, and applied to his two boon companions for 
their quota ; but the students affected a sort of 
brutal surprise at any one having the presumption to 
imagine that they were going to pay their proportion ; 
and flinging down the money for their own supper 
on the table, they retired ; the frantic magistrate, 
calling loudly for M. Maas, followed them out ot 
the room. 

Essper George stood moralizing at the table, and 
emptying every glass whose contents were not 
utterly drained ; with the exception of the tumblers 
of the cloth-merchants, of whose liquor he did not 

4 Dear me ! poor man ! to get only one glass out 
of his own bottle ! I wish I hadn't taken his wine ; 
it was rather sour. Ay ! call call away for Mr. 
Maas : threaten threaten -threaten as you will. 
Your grandfather will not help you here. Blood out 
of a wall, and money out of a student come the same 
day. -Ah! is your Highness here?' said Essper, 
turning round to our two travellers with affected 



surprise, although he had observed them the whole 
time. ' Is your Highness here ?' I've been looking 
for you through Frankfort this whole morning. 
There ! it will do for your glass. It is of chamois 
leather ; and I made it myself, from a beast I caught 
last summer in the valley of the Rhone.' So saying 
he threw over Vivian's neck a neat chain, or cord, of 
very curiously-worked leather. 

' Who the devil's this, Grey ?' asked the Baron. 

' A funny knave, whom I once saved from a 
thrashing, or something of the kind, which I do him 
justice to say he well deserved.' 

'Who the devil's this?' said Essper George. 
* Why, that's exactly the same question I myself 
asked when I saw a tall, pompous, proud fellow, 
dressed like a peacock on a May morning, standing 
at the door just now. He looked as if he'd pass 
himself off for an ambassador at least ; but I told 
him that if he got his wages paid, he was luckier than 
most servants. Was I right, your Excellency?' 

* Poor Ernstorff ! ' said the Baron, laughing. 
' Yes ; he certainly gets paid. Here, you're a 
clever varlet ; fill your glass.' 

' No, no, no, no wine no wine. Don't you hear 
the brawling, and nearly the bloodshed, which are 
going on up-stairs about a sour bottle of Rudes- 
heimer ? and here I see two gentles who have ordered 
the best wine merely to show that they are masters 
and not servants of the green peacock and lo ! 
cannot get through a glass Lord ! lord ! what is 
man ? If my fat friend and his grandfather, would 
come down stairs again, here is liquor enough to 
make wine and water of the Danube ; for he comes 
from thence by his accent. No, no, I'll have none 
of your wine ; keep it to throw on the sandy floor, 



that the dust may not hurt your delicate shoes, nor 
dirt the hand of the gentleman in green and gold 
when he cleans them for you in the morning.' 

Here the Baron laughed again, and, as he bore his 
impertinence, Essper George immediately became 

' Does your mighty Highness go to Ems ?' 

' We hardly know, my friend.' 

' Oh ! go there, gentlemen. I've tried them all 
Aix-la-Chapelle, Spa, Wisbaden, Carlsbad, Pyrmont, 
every one of them; but what are these to Ems? 
there we all live in the same house, and eat from the 
same table. When there, I feel that you are all 
under my protection I consider you all as my 
children. Besides, the country how delightful ! 
the mountains the valleys the rivers the woods 
ancTthen the company so select ! no sharpers no 
adventurers no blacklegs : at Ems you can be 
taken in by no one except your intimate friend. 
Oh ! go to Ems, go to Ems, by all means. I'd 
advise you, however, to send the gentleman in the 
cocked hat on before you to engage rooms ; for I 
can assure you that you'll have a hard chance ; the 
baths are very full.' 

* And how do you get there, Essper ? ' asked 

* Those are subjects on which I never speak,' 
answered the conjuror, with a solemn air. 

* But have you all your stock in trade with you, 
my good fellow ? Where's the Mystery ?' 

' Sold, Sir, sold ! I never keep to any thing long ; 
Variety is the mother of Enjoyment. At Ems I 
shall not be a conjuror : but I never part with my 
box. It takes no more room than one of those 
medicine chests, which I dare say you've got with 



you in your carriage, to prop up your couple of 
shattered constitutions.' 

' By Jove ! you're a merry impudent fellow,' said 
the Baron ; l and if you like to get up behind my 
britchka, you may.' 

" No, no, no ; a thousand thanks to your mighty 
Highnesses, I carry my own box, and my own body, 
and I shall be at Ems to-morrow in time enough to 
receive your lordships.' 


IN a delightful valley of Nassau, formed by the 
picturesque windings of the Taunus mountains, and 
on the banks of the noisy river Lahn, stands an 
immense brick pile, of very irregular architecture, 
which nearly covers an acre of ground. This build- 
ing was formerly a favourite palace of the ducal house 
of Nassau ; but for reasons which I cannot give, and 
which the reader will perhaps not require, the present 
Prince has thought proper to let out the former 
residence of his family, as an hotel for the accommo- 
dation of the company, who in the season frequent 
this, the most lovely spot in his lovely little Duchy. 
This extensive building contains two hundred and 
thirty rooms, and eigthy baths; and these apart- 
ments, which are under the management of an official 
agent, who lives in the ' Princely Bathing House,' 
for such is its present dignified tide, are to be en- 
gaged at fixed prices, which are marked over the 
doors. All the rooms in the upper story of the 
Princely Bathing House open on, or are almost 
immediately connected with, a long corridor, which 
extends the whole length of the building. The 
ground floor, besides the space occupied by the baths, 



also affords a very spacious promenade, arched with 
stone, and surrounded with stalls, behind which are 
marshalled vendors of all the possible articles which 
can be required by the necessities of the frequenters 
of a watering-place. There you are greeted by the 
jeweller of the Palais Royal, and the merchande de 
mode of the Rue de la Paix ; the printseller from 
Manheim, and the china-dealer from Dresden ; and 
other little speculators in the various fancy articles 
which abound in Vienna, Berlin, Geneva, Basle, 
Strasburgh and Lausanne ; such as pipes, costumes 
of Swiss peasantry, crosses of Mont-Blanc crystal, 
and all varieties of national bijouterie. All things 
may here be sold, save those which administer to 
the nourishment of the body, or the pleasure of the 
palate. Let not those of my readers, who have 
already planned a trip to the sweet vales of the 
Taunus, be frightened by this last rather alarming 
sentence. At Ems, ' eatables and drinkables ' are 
excellent, and abounding ; but all those are solely 
supplied by the restaurateur, who farms the mono- 
poly from the Duke. This gentleman, who is a 
pupil of Beauvillier's, and who has conceived an 
exquisite cuisine, by adding to the lighter graces of 
French cookery something of the more solid virtues 
of the German, presides in a saloon of immense size 
and magnificent decoration ; in which, during the 
season, upwards of three hundred persons frequent 
the Table d'Hote. It is the etiquette at Ems, that, 
however distinguished, or however humble, the rank 
of the visitors, their fare and their treatment must be 
alike. In one of the most aristocratic countries in 
the world, the sovereign prince, and his tradesman 
subject, may be found seated in the morning at the 
same board, and eating from the same dish ; as in 



the evening they may be seen staking on the same 
colour at the gaming-table, and sharing in the same 
interest at the Redoute. 

I have said that the situation of Ems was delight- 
ful. The mountains which form the valley are not, 
as in Switzerland, so elevated that they confine the 
air, or seem to impede the facility of breathing. In 
their fantastic forms, the picturesque is not lost in the 
monotonous ; and in the rich covering of their 
various woods, the admiring eye finds, at the same 
time, beauty and repose. Opposite the ancient 
palace, on the banks of the Lahn, are the gardens. 
In these, in a neat pavilion, a band of excellent 
musicians seldom cease from enchanting the visitors 
by the execution of the most favourite specimens 
of German and Italian music. Numberless acacia 
arbours, and retired sylvan seats are here to be found, 
where the student, or the contemplative, may seek 
refuge from the noise of his more gay companions, 
and the tedium of eternal conversation. Here too, 
a tete-a-tete will seldom be disturbed ; and in some 
species of tete-a-tete 'S, we all know how very necessary 
and how very delightful are the perfumes of flowers, 
and the shade of secret trees, and the cooling sound 
of running waters. In these gardens also, are the 
billiard-room, and another saloon, in which each night 
meet, not merely those who are interested in the 
mysteries of rouge et noir> and the chances of roulette ; 
but, in general, the whole of the company, male and 
female, who are frequenting the baths. In quitting 
the gardens for a moment, we must not omit men- 
tioning the interesting booth of our friend the 
restaurateur, where coffee, clear and hot, exquisite 
confitures, delicious liqueurs, and particularly genuine 
maraschino of Zara are never wanting. Nor should 
u 305 


I forget the glittering pennons of the gay boats 
which glide along the Lahn ; nor the handsome 
donkies, who, with their white saddles and red 
bridles, seem not unworthy of the princesses whom 
they sometimes bear. The gardens, with an alley of 
lime-trees, which are further on, near the banks of 
the river, afford easy promenades to the sick and 
debilitated ; but the more robust and active need not 
fear monotony in the valley of the Lahn. If they 
sigh for the champaign country, they can climb the 
wild passes of the encircling mountains, and from 
their tops enjoy the most magnificent views of the 
Rhine-land. There they may gaze on that mighty 
river, flowing through the prolific plain, which, at the 
same time, it nourishes and adorns, bounded on 
each side by mountains of every form, clothed with 
wood, or crowned with castles. Or, if they fear the 
fatigues of the ascent, they may wander further up 
the valley, and in the wild dells, romantic forests, 
and grey ruins of Stein and Nassau, conjure up the 
old times of feudal tyranny when the forest was the 
only free land; and he who outraged the laws, the 
only one who did not suffer from their authority. 

Besides the Princely Bathing -House, I must 
mention, that there was another old and extensive 
building near it, which, in very full seasons, also 
accommodated visitors on the same system as the 
palace. At present, this adjoining building was 
solely occupied by a Russian Archduke, who had 
engaged it for the season. 

Such is the faint description of Ems, a place 
almost of unique character ; for it is a watering-place 
with every convenience, luxury, and accommodation ; 
and yet without shops, streets, or houses. 

The Baron and Vivian were fortunate in finding 
* 3 6 


rooms, for the Baths were very full ; the extra- 
ordinary beauty of the weather having occasioned a 
very early season. They found themselves at the 
baths early on the morning after their arrival at 
Coblentz, and at three o'clock in the same day, had 
taken their places at the dinner-table in the great 
saloon. At the long table upwards of two hundred 
and fifty guests were assembled, of different nations, 
and very different characters. There was the 
cunning intriguing Greek, who served well his 
imperial master the Russian. The order of the 
patron saint of Moscow, and the glittering stars of 
other nations which sparkled on his green uniform, 
told how well he had laboured for the interest of all 
other countries except his own ; but his clear pale 
complexion, his delicately-trimmed mustachios, his 
lofty forehead, his arched eye-brow, and his Eastern 
eye, recalled to the traveller, in spite of his barbarian 
trappings, the fine countenance of the ^Egean ; 
and became a form which apparently might have 
struggled in Thermopylae. Next to him was the 
Austrian diplomatist, the Sosia of all cabinets ; in 
whose gay address, and rattling conversation you 
could hardly recognize the sophistical defender of 
unauthorized invasion, and the subtle inventor of 
Holy Alliances, and Imperial Leagues. Then came 
the rich usurer from Frankfort, or the prosperous 
merchant from Hamburgh ; who, with his wife and 
daughters, were seeking some recreation from his 
flourishing counting-house, in the sylvan gaieties of 
a German bathing-place. Flirting with these, was 
an adventurous dancing-master from Paris, whose 
profession at present was kept in the background, 
and whose well-curled black hair, diamond pin, and 
frogged coat, hinted at the magnifico incog : and also 



enabled him, if he did not choose in time to follow his 
own profession, to pursue another one, which he had 
also studied, in the profitable mystery of the Redoute. 
There were many other individuals, whose common- 
place appearance did not reveal a character which 
perhaps they did not possess. There were officers in 
all uniforms, and there were some uniforms with- 
out officers. But all looked perfectly comme il faut, 
and on the whole very select ; and if the great 
persons endeavoured for a moment to forget their 
dignity, still these slight improprieties were amply 
made up by the affected dignity of those little 
persons who had none to forget. 

' And how like you the Baths of Ems ? ' asked 
the Baron of Vivian ; * we shall get better seats to- 
morrow, and perhaps be among those whom you 
shall know. I see many friends and some agreeable 
ones. In the meantime, you must make to-day a 
good dinner, and I'll amuse you, and assist your 
digestion by putting you up to all the curious 
characters whom you are dining with.' So saying, 
the Baron seized the soup-ladle. 

At this moment a party entered the room, who 
were rather late in their appearance, but who attracted 
the attention of Vivian so keenly, that he almost 
forgot the gay crowd on whom he was lately gazing 
with such amusement. The group consisted of 
three persons ; a very handsome fashionable-looking 
young man, who supported on each arm a female. 
The lady on his right arm was apparently of about 
five-and-twenty years of age. She was of majestic 
stature ; her complexion of untinged purity. Her 
features were like those conceptions of Grecian 
sculptors, which in moments of despondency, we 
sometimes believe to be ideal. Her full eyes were 



of the same deep blue as a mountain-lake, and 
gleamed from under their long lashes, as that purest 
of waters beneath its fringing sedge. Her light 
brown hair was braided from her high forehead, and 
hung in long full curls over her neck ; the mass 
gathered up into a Grecian knot, and confined by a 
bandeau of cameos. She wore a superb dress of the 
richest black velvet, whose folding drapery was con- 
fined round a waist which was in exact symmetry with 
the proportions of her full bust, and the polished 
roundness of her bending neck. On the little finger 
of an ungloved hand, sparkled a diamond of un- 
known value, which was linked by a small Venetian 
chain to a gorgeous bracelet of the most precious 
stones. The countenance of the lady was dignified, 
without any expression of pride ; and reserved, 
without any of the harshness of austerity. In gazing 
on her, the enraptured spectator for a moment 
believed that Minerva had forgotten her severity, 
and had entered into a delightful rivalry with Venus. 
Her companion was much younger, much shorter, 
and of slender form. The long tresses of her 
chestnut hair shaded her oval face. Her small 
aquiline nose, bright hazel eyes, delicate mouth, and 
the deep colour of her lips, were as remarkable as 
the transparency of her complexion. The flush of 
her cheek was singular it was of a brilliant pink : 
you may find it in the lip of an Indian shell. The 
blue veins played beneath her arched forehead, like 
lightning beneath a rainbow. She was simply dressed 
in white, and a damask rose, half hid in her clustering 
hair, was her only ornament. This lovely creature 
glided by Vivian Grey almost unnoticed, so fixed 
was his gaze on her companion. Yet, magnificent as 
was the style of LADY MADELEINE TREVOR, there 



were few who preferred even her commanding 
graces, to the softer beauties of VIOLET FANE. 

This party having passed Vivian, proceeded to the 
top of the room, where places had been kept for 
them. Vivian's eye watched them till they were lost 
among surrounding visitors: their peculiar loveliness 
could not deceive him. 

' English, no doubt, observed he to the Baron ; 
' who can they be ? ' 

* I haven't the least idea that is, I don't exactly 
know that is, I think they are English,' answered 
the Baron, in such a confused manner that Vivian 
stared. Whether his Excellency observed his friend's 
astonishment or not, I cannot say ; but, after musing 
a moment, he recovered himself. 

' The unexpected sight of a face we feel that we 
know, and yet cannot immediately recognize, is 
extremely annoying it is almost agitating. They 
are English ; the lady in black is Lady Madeleine 
Trevor; I knew her in London.' 

* And the gentleman ? ' asked Vivian, rather 
anxiously : ' is the gentleman a Mr. Trevor ? ' 

4 No, no, no ; Trevor, poor Trevor is dead, I 
think is, I'm sure, dead. That, I am confident, is 

not he. He was of the family, and was in 

office when I was in England. It was in my diplo- 
matic capacity that I first became acquainted with 
him. Lady Madeleine was, and, as you see, is a 
charming woman, a very charming woman is Lady 
Madeleine Trevor.' 

* And the young lady with her ? ' 

* The young lady with her I cannot exactly say 
I do not exactly know. Her face is familiar to 

me, and yet I cannot remember her name. She 
must have been very young, as you may see, when I 



was in England ; she cannot now be above eighteen. 
Miss Fane must therefore have been very young 
when I was in England. Miss Fane ! how singular 
I should have mentioned her name ! that is her 
name Violet Fane a cousin, or some relation of 
Lady Madeleine's ; good family, very good family. 
Shall I help you to some soup ? ' 

Whether it was from not being among his friends, 
or some other cause, I know not, but the baron was 
certainly not in his usual spirits this day at dinner. 
Conversation, which with him was generally as easy 
as it was brilliant like a fountain at the same time 
sparkling and fluent was evidently constrained. 
For a few minutes he talked very fast, and was then 
uncommunicative, absent, and dull. He moreover 
drank a great deal of wine, which was not his 
custom ; but the grape did not inspire him. Vivian 
found amusement in his next neighbour, a forward, 
bustling man, clever in his talk, very fine, but rather 
vulgar. He was the manager of a company of 
Austrian actors, and had come to Ems on the chance 
of forming an engagement for his troop, who gener- 
ally performed at Vienna. He had been successful 
in his adventure, the Archduke having engaged the 
whole band at the New House, and in a few days the 
troop were to arrive ; at which time, the manager 
was to drop the character of a travelling gentleman, 
and cease to dine at the Table d'Hote of Ems. 
From this man Vivian learnt that Lady Madeleine 
Trevor had been at the Baths for some time before 
the season commenced ; that at present, her's was 
the party which, from its long stay, and eminent 
rank, gave the tone to the amusements of the place ; 
the influential circle, which those who have frequented 
watering-places have often observed, and which may 

3 11 


be seen at Ems, Spa, or Pyrmont, equally as. at 
Harrowgate, Tunbridge Wells, or Cheltenham. 


WHEN dinner was finished, the party broke up, and 
most of them assembled in the gardens. The Baron, 
whose countenance had assumed its wonted cheerful- 
ness, and who excused his previous dulness by the 
usual story of a sudden head-ache, proposed to 
Vivian to join the promenade. The gardens were 
very full, and the Baron recognized many of his 

' My dear Colonel, who possibly expected to 
meet you here ? why ! did you dine in the saloon ? 
I only arrived this morning this is my friend, Mr. 
Grey Colonel von Trumpetson.' 

* An Englishman, I believe ? ' said the Colonel 
bowing. He was a starch militaire, with a blue 
frock coat buttoned up to his chin, a bald head with 
a few grey hairs, and long thin mustachios like a 
mandarin's. ' An Englishman, I believe ; pray, 
Sir, can you inform me whether the waistcoats of 
the household troops, in England, have the double 
braid ?* 

' Sir ! ' said Vivian. 

' I esteem myself particularly fortunate in meeting 
with an English gentleman, your Excellency. It was 
only at dinner to-day that a controversy arose between 
Major von Musquetoon, and the Prince of Button- 
stein, about the waistcoats of the English Household 
troops. As I said to the Prince, you may argue for 
ever, for at present we cannot decide the fact. How 
little did I think when I parted from the Major, that, 
in a few minutes, I should be able to settle this 



important question beyond a doubt ; I esteem 
myself particularly fortunate in meeting with an 

* I regret to say, Colonel, that far from being able 
to decide this important question, I hardly know 
what Household troops really are.' 

' Sir, I wish you good morning,' said the Colonel, 
very drily ; and, staring very keenly at Vivian, he 
walked away. 

* Well, that's beautiful, Grey, to get rid of that 
horrible old bore with such exquisite tact Double 
braid ! an old dunder-pate ! he should be drummed 
out of the regiment; but he's good enough to fight, 
I suppose,' added the plenipotentiary, with a smile 
and shrug of the shoulders, which seemed to return 
thanks to Providence, for having been educated in 
the civil service. 

At this moment Lady Madeleine Trevor, leaning 
on the arm of the same gentleman, passed, and the 
Baron bowed. The bow was stiffly returned. 

' You know her ladyship, then ! well ! ' 'I did 
know her,' said the Baron, ' but I see from her bow, 
that I am at present in no very high favour. The 
truth is, she is a charming woman, but I never 
expected to see her in Germany, and there was some 
little commission of her's which I neglected some 
little order for Eau de Cologne or a message about 
a worked pocket handkerchief, or a fancy shawl, 
which I utterly forgot ; and then, I never wrote! 
and you know, Grey, that these little sins of 
omission are never forgiven by women.' 

' My dear friend, De Konigstein one pinch ! one 
pinch ! ' chirped out a little old, odd-looking man, 
with a very poudre head, and dressed in a costume in 
which the glories of the vieille cour seemed to retire 


with reluctance. A diamond ring twinkled on the 
snuffy hand, which was encircled by a rich ruffle of 
dirty lace. The brown coat was not modern, and 
yet not quite such an one as was worn by its master, 
when he went to see the King dine in public, at Ver- 
sailes, before the Revolution : large silver buckles 
still adorned the well-polished shoes ; and silk stock- 
ings, whose hue was originally black, were picked 
out, with clock-work of gold. 

' My dear Marquis I'm most happy to see you ; 
will you try the boulangero ? ' 

* With pleasure ! with pleasure ! A-a-h ! what a 
box ! a Louis-quatorze,.\ think ?' 

' Oh, no ! by no means so old.' 

' Pardon me, my dear fellow, my dear De Konig- 
stein; I've studied the subject! I think a Louis- 

1 1 tell you I bought it in Sicily.' 

'A-a-h ! slowly exclaimed the little man : then 
shaking his head ' I think a Louis-quatorze ?' 

' Well, have it so, if you like, Marquis.' 

' A-a-h ! I thought so I thought a Louis-qua- 
fotze. Will you try mine ! will your friend try a 
pinch ! does he take snuff ? what box has he got ? 
is it an old one ? is it a Louis-quatorze ? ' 

' He doesn't take snuff at all.' 

'A-a-h! if he did, perhaps he'd have a box 
perhaps it would be an old one most likely a 

* Very probably,' said the Baron. 

* A-a-h ! I thought so,' said the old man. 

' Well, good afternoon,' said the Baron passing on. 

* My dear De Konigstein one pinch, one pinch 
you've often said you have a particular regard for 



' My dear Marquis ! ' 

* A-a-h ! I thought so you've often said you'd 
serve me, if possible.' 

* My dear Marquis, be brief.' 

* A-a-h ! I will there's a cursed crusty old 
Prussian officer here one Colonel de Trumpetson.' 

* Well, my dear Marquis, what can I do ? you're 
surely not going to fight him ! ' 

' A-a-h ! no, no, no I wish you to speak to 

' Well, well, what ? ' 

* He takes snuff.' 

' What's that to me ? ' 

* He's got a box.' 

' It's a Louis-guafotze couldn't you get it for 

* Good morning to you,' said the Baron, pulling on 

' You've had the pleasure, Grey, of meeting this 
afternoon two men, who have each only one idea. 
Colonel Von Trumpetson, and the Marquis de la 
Tabatiere, are equally tiresome. But are they more 
tiresome than any other man who always speaks 
on the same subject ? We are more irritable, but 
not more wearied, with a man who is always thinking 
of the pattern of a button-hole, or the shape or a 
snuff-box, than with one who is always talking about 
pictures, or chemistry, or politics. The true bore is 
that man who thinks the world is only interested in 
one subject, because he, himself, can only compre- 
hend one.' 

Here the Lady Madeleine passed again ; and this 
time the Baron's eyes were fixed on the ground. 

A buzz and bustle at the other end of the gardens, 


to which the Baron and Vivian were advancing, 
announced the entry of the Archduke. His Im- 
perial Highness was a tall man, with a quick, piercing 
eye, which was prevented from giving to his counte- 
nance the expression of intellect which it otherwise 
would have done, by the dull and almost brutal 
effect of his flat, Calmuck nose. He was dressed in 
a plain, green uniform, adorned by a single star ; but 
his tightened waist, his stiff stock, and the elaborate 
attention which had evidently been bestowed upon 
his mustachios, denoted the military fop. The 
Archduke was accompanied by three or four stiff 
and stately-looking personages, in whom the severity 
of the martinet, seemed sunk in the servility of the 

The Baron bowed very low to the Prince, as he 
drew near, and His Highness, taking off his cocked- 
hat with an appearance of cordial condescension, made 
a full stop. The silent gentlemen in the rear, who 
had not anticipated this suspense in their promenade, 
almost foundered on the heels of their royal master ; 
and frightened at the imminency of the profanation, 
forgot their stiff pomp in a precipitate retreat of half 
a yard. 

' Baron,' said his Highness, ' why have I not seen 
you at the New House ? ' 


' I have but this moment arrived, may it please 
your Imperial Highness.' 

* Your companion,' continued the Archduke, 
pointing very graciously to Vivian. 

' My intimate friend, my fellow-traveller, and an 
Englishman. May I have the honour of presenting 
Mr. Grey to your Highness ?' 

' Any friends of the Baron von Konigstein I shall 
always feel great pleasure in having presented to me. 



Sir, I feel great pleasure in having you presented to 
me. Sir, you ought to be proud of the name of 
Englishman Sir, the English are a noble nation- 
Sir, I have the highest respect for the English 
nation ! ' 

Vivian of course bowed very low, and of course 
made a very proper speech on the occasion, which, 
as all speeches of that kind should be, was very 
dutiful and quite inaudible. 

c And what news from Berlin, Baron ? let us move 
on,' and the Baron, with Vivian on his arm, turned 
with the Archduke. The silent gentlemen, settling 
their mustachios, followed in the rear. For about 
half an hour, anecdote after anecdote, scene after 
scene, caricature after caricature, were poured out 
with prodigal expenditure for the amusement of his 
Highness ; who did nothing during the exhibition 
but smile, stroke his whiskers, and at the end of the 
best stories fence with his forefinger at the Baron's 
side with a gentle laugh, and a mock shake of the 
head and a " Eh ! Von Konigstein, you're too bad ! " 
Here Lady Madeline Trevor passed again, and the 
Archduke's hat nearly touched the ground. He 
received a most gracious bow. 

' Finish the story about Salvinski, Baron, and then 
I'll introduce you for a reward to the most lovely 
creature in existence a countrywoman of your's, Mr 
Grey Lady Madeleine Trevor.' 

' I have the honour of slight acquaintance with her 
ladyship,' said the Baron ; ' I had the pleasure of 
knowing her in England.' 

' Indeed ! Oh ! most fortunate mortal ! I see 
she has stopped talking to some stranger. Let 
us turn and join her.' 

The Archduke and the two friends accordingly 


turned, and of course the silent gentlemen in the 
rear followed with due precision. 

' Lady Madeleine ! ' said his Highness, ' I flattered 
myself for a moment that I might have had the 
honour of presenting to you a gentleman for whom 
I have a great esteem ; but he has proved to me this 
moment that he is more fortunate than myself, since 
he had the honour before me of an acquaintance with 
Lady Madeleine Trevor.' 

' I have not forgotten Baron von Konigstein,' said 
her ladyship, with a serious air ; ' may I ask your 
Highness how you prospered in your negociation 
with the Austrian troop ?' 

' Perfectly successful ! perfectly successful ! 
Inspired by your ladyship's approbation, my steward 
has really done wonders. He almost deserves a 
diplomatic appointment for the talent which he has 
shown ; but what should I do without Cracowsky ? 
Lady Madeleine, can you conceive what I should do 
without Cracowsky ?' 

* Not the least,' said her ladyship, very good- 

* Cracowsky is every thing to me every thing. 
It is impossible to say what Cracowsky is to me. I 
owe every thing to Cracowsky. To Cracowsky I 
owe being here.' The Archduke bowed very low, 
for this eulogium on his steward also conveyed a 
compliment to her ladyship. The Archduke was 
certainly right in believing that he owed his summer 
excursion to Ems to his steward. That wily Pole, 
regularly every year put his Imperial master's 
summer excursion up to auction, and according to 
the biddings of the proprietors of the chief baths, 
did he take care that his master regulated his visit. 
The restaurateur of Ems, in collusion with the official 



agent of the Duke of Nassau, were fortunate this 
season in having the Archduke knocked down to 

' May I flatter myself that Miss Fane feels herself 
better ?' asked the Archduke. 

' She certainly does feel herself much better, but 
my anxiety about her does not decrease. In her 
illness apparent convalescence is sometimes more 
fearful than actual suffering. ' 

The Archduke continued by the side of her lady- 
ship for about twenty minutes, seizing every oppor- 
tunity of uttering, in the most courtly tone, the most 
inane compliments ; and then trusting that he might 
soon have her ladyship's opinion respecting the 
Austrian troop at the New House ; and that 
von Konigstein and his English friend would not 
delay letting him see them there, his Imperial 
Highness, followed by his silent suite, left the 

' 1 am afraid, your ladyship must have almost 
mistaken me for a taciturn lord chamberlain,' said 
the Baron, occupying immediately the Archduke's 
vacated side. 

' Baron von Konigstein must be very changed, if 
silence be imputed to him as a fault,' said Lady 
Madeleine, with rather a severe smile. 

'Baron von Konigstein is very much changed smcz 
last he had the pleasure of conversing with Lady 
Madeleine Trevor ; more changed than her ladyship 
will perhaps believe ; more changed than he can some- 
times himself believe ; I hope, I flatter myself, I feel 
sure, that he will not be less acceptable to Lady 
Madeleine Trevor, because he is no longer rash, 
passionate and unthinking; because he has learnt to 
live more for others and less for himself.' 


' Baron von Konigstein does indeed appear 
changed ; since, by his own account, he has be- 
come in a very few years, a being, in whose existence 
philosophers scarcely believe a perfect man.' 

' My self-conceit has been so often reproved by 
your ladyship, that I will not apologize for a quality 
which I almost flattered myself I no longer possessed ; 
but you will excuse, I am sure, one, who in zealous 
haste to prove himself amended, has, I fear, almost 
shown that he has deceived himself.' 

Some strange thoughts occurred to Vivian, whose 
eyes had never quitted her ladyship's face while this 
conversation was taking place. ' Is this a woman to 
resent the neglect of an order for Eau de Cologne ? 
my dear von Konigstein, you're a very pleasant fellow, 
but this is not the way men apologize for the non- 
purchase of a pocket-handkerchief ! ' 

' Has your ladyship been long at Ems ?' 

' Nearly a month : we are travelling in consequence 
of the ill-health of a relation. It was our intention 
to have gone on to Pisa, but our physician, in conse- 
quence of the extreme heat of the summer, is afraid 
of the fatigue of travelling, and has recommended 
Ems. The air between these mountains is very soft 
and pure, and I have no reason to regret at present 
that we have not advanced farther on our journey.' 

' The lady who was with your party at dinner is, I 
fear, your invalid. She certainly does not look like 
one. I think,' said the Baron, with an effort, ' I 
think that her face is not unknown to me. It is 
difficult, even after so many years, to mistake 
Miss .' 

' Fane ' said Lady Madeleine, very firmly ; for 
it seemed that the Baron required a little assistance 
at the end of his sentence. 



' Ems,' returned his Excellency, with great rapidity 
of utterance. ' Ems is, indeed, a charming place at 
least to me. I have, within these few years quite re- 
curred to the feelings of my boyhood ; nothing to me 
is more disgustingly wearisome than the gay bustle of 
a city. My present diplomatic appointment at 
Frankfort ensures a constant life among the most 
charming scenes of nature. Naples, which was offered 
to me, I refused. Eight years ago, I should have 
thought an appointment at Naples a Paradise on earth." 

* Your Excellency must indeed be changed,' re- 
marked her ladyship. 

* How beautiful is the vicinity of the Rhine ! I 
have passed within these three days, for almost the 
twentieth time in my life, through the Rheingau ; 
and yet how fresh, and lovely, and novel, seemed all 
its various beauties. My young travelling companion 
is very enthusiastic about this gem of Germany. He 
is one of your ladyship's countrymen. Might I take 
the liberty of introducing to you Mr. Grey ! ' 

Her ladyship, as if it could now no longer be post- 
poned, introduced to the two gentlemen, her brother, 
Mr. St. George. This gentleman, who, during the 
whole previous conversation, had kept his head in a 
horizontal position, looking neither to the right, nor 
to the left, and apparently unconscious that any one 
was conversing with his sister, because, according to 
the English custom, he was not * introduced ' now 
suddenly turned round, and welcomed his acquaint- 
ance with great cordiality. 

' Mr. Grey,' asked her ladyship, ' are you of 
Dorsetshire ?' 

* My mother is a Dorsetshire woman ; her family 
name is Vivian, which name I also bear Sir Har- 
grave Vivian, of Chester Grange.' 

x 321 


c Have you a father living, may I ask ?' 

' At present in England. 1 

' Then I think we are longer acquainted than we 
have been introduced. I met your father at Sir 
Hargrave Vivian's only last Christmas. Of such a 
father you must indeed be proud. He spoke of 
you in those terms that make me congratulate my- 
self that I have met the son. You have been long 
from England, I think.' 

4 Nearly a year and a half ; and I only regret 
my absence from it, because it deprives me of the 
presence of my parents.' 

The Baron had resigned his place by Lady 
Madeleine, and was already in close conversation 
with Mr. St. George, from whose arm Lady 
Madeleine's was disengaged. No one acted the 
part of Asmodeus with greater spirit than his 
Excellency ; and the secret history of every person 
whose secret history could be amusing, delighted 
Mr. St. George. 

* There,' said the Baron, c goes the son of an un- 
known father ; his mother followed the camp, and 
her offspring was early initiated in the mysteries of 
military petty larceny. As he grew up, he became 
the most skilful plunderer that ever rifled the dying 
of both sides. Before he was twenty, he followed 
the army as a petty chapman, and amassed an excel- 
lent fortune by re -acquiring after a battle, the very 
goods and trinkets which he had sold at an immense 
price before it. Such a wretch could do nothing 
but prosper, and in due time, the sutler's brat be- 
came a Commissary general. He made millions in 
a period of general starvation, and cleared at least a 
hundred thousand dollars, by embezzling the shoe 
leather during a retreat. He is now a Baron, 



covered with orders, and his daughters are married 
to some of our first nobles. There goes a Polish 
Count, who is one of the greatest gamblers in 
Christendom. In the same season he lost to a Rus- 
sian general, at one game of chess, his chief castle, 
and sixteen thousand acres of woodland ; and re- 
covered himself on another game, on which he won 
of a Turkish Pashaw one hundred and eighty thou- 
sand leopard skins. The Turk, who was a man of 
strict honour, paid the Count, by embezzling the 
tribute in kine of the province he governed ; and, 
as on quarter day he could not, of course, make 
up his accounts with the Divan, he joined the 

While the Baron was entertaining Mr. St. George, 
the conversation between Lady Madeleine and Vi- 
vian proceeded. 

* Your father expressed great disappointment to 
me, at the impossibility of his paying you a visit, in 
consequence of your mother's illness. Do you not 
long to see him ?' 

1 More, much more, than I can express. Did 
your ladyship think my father in good spirits?' 

* Generally so ; as cheerful as all fathers can be 
without their only son,' said her ladyship, smiling 
very kindly. 

I Did he complain then of my absence ?' 
{ He regretted it.' 

I 1 linger in Germany with the hope of seeing 
him ; otherwise I should have now been much far- 
ther south. You will be glad to hear that my 
mother is quite recovered ; at least, my last letters 
inform me so. Did you find Sir Hargrave as amus- 
ing as ever?' 

'When is the old gentleman otherwise than the 
3 2 3 


most delightful of old men? Sir Hargrave is one 
of my greatest favourites. I should like to persuade 
you to return, and see them all. Can't you fancy 
Chester Grange very beautiful now, Albert ?' said 
her ladyship, turning to her brother, ' what is the 
number of our apartments ? Mr. Grey, the sun has 
now disappeared, and I fear the night air among 
these mountains. We have hardly yet summer 
nights, though we certainly have summer days. 
We shall be happy to see you at our rooms.' So 
saying, bowing very cordially to Vivian, and less 
stiffly to the Baron than she had done, Lady Made- 
leine left the gardens. 

4 There goes the most delightful woman in the 
world,' said the Baron ; ' how fortunate that you know 
her! for really, as you might have observed, I have 
no great claims on her indulgent notice. I was cer- 
tainly very wild in England ; but then, young men, 
you know, Grey! and I didn't leave a card, or call, 
before I went ; and the English are very stiff, and 
precise about those things ; and the Trevors had 
been very kind to me. I think we'd better take a 
little coffee now ; and then, if you like, we'll just 
stroll into the REDOUTE.' 

In a brilliantly illuminated saloon, adorned with 
Corinthian columns, and casts from some of the most 
famous antique statues, assembled between nine and 
ten o'clock in the evening, many of the visitors at 
Ems. On each side of the room was placed a long 
narrow table, one of which was covered with green 
baize, and unattended ; while the variously coloured 
leather surface of the other was very closely sur- 
rounded by an interested crowd. Behind this table 
stood two individuals of very different appearance. 
The first was a short, thick man, whose only busi- 

3 2 4 


ness was dealing certain portions of playing cards 
with quick succession, one after the other ; and as 
the fate of the table was decided by this process, did 
his companion, an extremely tall, thin man, throw 
various pieces of money upon certain stakes, which 
were deposited by the bystanders on different parts 
of the table ; or, which was much oftener the case, 
with a silver rake with a long ebony handle, sweep 
into a large enclosure near him, the scattered sums. 
This enclosure was called the Bank, and the mysteri- 
ous ceremony in which these persons were assisting, 
was the celebrated game of Rouge-et-Noir. A deep 
silence was strictly preserved by those who immedia- 
tely surrounded the table ; no voice was heard, save 
that of the little, short, stout dealer ; when, without 
an expression of the least interest, he seemed 
mechanically to announce the fate of the different 
colours. No other sound was heard, except the jingle 
of the dollars and Napoleons, and the ominous rake 
of the tall, thin banker. The countenances of those 
who were hazarding their money were grave and 
gloomy : their eyes were fixed, their brows con- 
tracted, and their lips projected ; and yet there was 
an evident effort visible, to show that they were both 
easy and unconcerned. Each player held in his 
hand a small piece of pasteboard, on which, with a 
steel pricker, he marked the run of the cards ; in 
order, from his observations, to regulate his own 
play : the Rouge-et-Noir player imagines that 
Chance is not capricious. Those who were not in- 
terested in the game, promenaded in two lines within 
the tables ; or, seated in recesses between the pillars, 
formed small parties for conversation. 

As Vivian and the Baron entered, Lady Made- 
leine Trevor, leaning on the arm of an elderly man, 




left the room ; but as she was in earnest conversa- 
tion, she did not observe them. 

* I suppose we must throw away a dollar or two, 
Grey,' said the Baron, as he walked up to the 

* My dear De Konigstein one pinch one 

' Ah ! Marquis, what fortune to-night ?' 

' Bad bad ! I have lost my Napoleon : I never 
risk farther. There's that cursed crusty old De 
Trumpetson, persisting, as usual, in his run of bad 
luck ; because he never will give in. Trust me, 
my dear De Konigstein, it'll end in his ruin ; and 
then, if there's a sale of his effects, I shall, perhaps, 
get his snuff-box a-a-h!' 

' Come, Grey ; shall I throw down a couple of 
Napoleons on joint account. I don't care much for 
play myself; but I suppose, at Ems, we must make 
up our minds to lose a few Louis. Here! now, for 
the red joint account, mind!' 

< Done.' 

4 There's the Archduke ! Let's go and make our 
bow ; we needn't stick at the table as if our whole 
soul were staked with our crown-pieces : we'll 
make our bow, and then return in time to know our 
fate.' So saying, the gentlemen walked up to the 
top of the room. 

'Why, Grey! Surely no it cannot be and 
yet it is. De Boeffleurs, how d'ye do?' said the 
Baron, with a face beaming with joy, and a hearty 
shake of the hand. ' My dear, dear fellow, how the 
devil did you manage to get off so soon ? I thought 
you were not to be here for a fortnight : we only 
arrived ourselves to-day.' 

' Yes but I've made an arrangement which I 


did not anticipate ; and so I posted after you im- 
mediately. Whom do you think I have brought 
with me?' 

* Salvinski.' 

<Ah! And the Count? 5 

* Follows immediately. I expect him to-morrow 
or next day. Salvinski is talking to the Archduke ; 
and see, he beckons to me. I suppose I'm going to 
be presented.' 

The Chevalier moved forward, followed by the 
Baron and Vivian. 

' Any friend of Prince Salvinski I shall always 
have great pleasure in having presented to me. 
Chevalier, I feel great pleasure in having you pre- 
sented to me. Chevalier, you ought to be proud 
of the name of Frenchman. Chevalier, the French 
are a grand nation. Chevalier, I have the highest 
respect for the French nation.' 

' The most subtile diplomatist,' thought Vivian, 
as he recalled to mind his own introduction, ' would 
be puzzled to decide to which interest his Imperial 
Highness leans.' 

The Archduke now entered into conversation with 
the Prince, and most of the circle who surrounded 
him. As his Highness was addressing Vivian, the 
Baron let slip our hero's arm, and seizing hold of 
the Chevalier de Boeffleurs, began walking up and 
down the room with him, and was soon engaged in 
very animated conversation. In a few minutes, the 
Archduke, bowing to his circle, made a move, and 
regained the side of a Saxon lady, from whose in- 
teresting company he had been disturbed by the ar- 
rival of Prince Salvinski an individual of whose 
long stories and dull romances the Archduke had, 



from experience, a particular dread : but his High- 
ness was always very courteous to the Poles. 

* Grey, I've despatched De Boeffleurs to the house, 
to instruct his servant and Ernstorff to do the im- 
possible, in order that our rooms may be altogether. 
You'll be delighted with De Boeffleurs when you 
know him, and I expect you to be great friends. 
Oh! by the bye, his unexpected arrival has quite 
made us forget our venture at Rouge-et-Noir. Of 
course we're too late now for any thing ; even if we 
had been fortunate, our doubled stake, remaining on 
the table, is, of course, lost : we may as well, how- 
ever, walk up. J So saying, the Baron reached the 

'That is your Excellency's stake! that is your 
Excellency's stake!' exclaimed many voices as he 
came up. 

* What's the matter, my friends ? what's the mat- 
ter?' asked the Baron very calmly. 

' There's been a run on the red ! there's been a 
run on the red! and your Excellency's stake has 
doubled each time. It has been 4 8 16 32 
64 128 256 and now it's 512!' quickly rattled 
a little thin man in spectacles, pointing at the same 
time to his unparalleled line of punctures. This was 
one of those officious, noisy little men, who are al- 
ways ready to give you unasked information on every 
possible subject ; and who are never so happy as 
when they are watching over the interest of some 
stranger, who never thanks them for their unneces- 
sary solicitude. 

Vivian, in spite of his philosophy, felt the excite- 
ment and wonder of the moment. He looked very 
earnestly at the Baron, whose countenance, however, 
was perfectly unmoved. 



' Grey,' said he, very coolly, < It seems we are in 

' The stake's then not all your own ?' very eagerly 
asked the little man in spectacles. 

* No part of it is yours, Sir,' answered the Baron 
very drily. 

' I'm going to deal,' said the short, thick man be- 
hind, * Is the board cleared ?' 

' Your Excellency then allows the stake to re- 
main?' inquired the tall thin banker, with affected 

'Oh! certainly,' said the Baron, with real non- 

' Three eight fourteen twenty- four thirty- 
four. Rouge 34 ' 

All crowded nearer; the table was surrounded 
five or six deep, for the wonderful run of luck had 
got wind, and nearly the whole room were round the 
table. Indeed, the Archduke and Saxon lady, and 
of course the silent suite, were left alone at the upper 
part of the room. The tall banker did not conceal 
his agitation. Even the short, stout dealer ceased 
to be a machine. All looked anxious except the 
Baron. Vivian looked at the table ; his Excellency 
watched, with a keen eye, the little dealer. No one 
even breathed as the cards descended ' Ten 
twenty ' (Here the countenance of the banker 
brightened) * twenty-two twenty-five twenty- 
eight thirty-one Noir 3 1 . The bank's broke : 
no more play to-night. The Roulette table opens 

In spite of the great interest which had been ex- 
cited, nearly the whole crowd, without waiting to con- 
gratulate the Baron, rushed to the opposite side of the 
room, in order to secure places at the Roulette table. 

3 2 9 


4 Put these five hundred and twelve Napoleons 
into a bag,' said the Baron ; * Grey, this is your 
share, and I congratulate you. With regard to the 
other half, Mr. Hermann, what bills have you got?' 

* Two on Gogel's house of Frankfort, accepted 
of course, for two hundred and fifty each, and these 
twelve Napoleons will make it right,' said the tall 
banker, as he opened a large black pocket-book, 
from which he took out two small bits of paper. 
The Baron examined them, and after having seen 
them endorsed, put them calmly into his pocket, not 
forgetting the twelve Napoleons ; and then taking 
Vivian's arm, and regretting extremely that he should 
have the trouble of carrying such a weight, he 
wished Mr. Hermann a very good night and success 
at his Roulette, and walked with his companion 
quietly home. Thus passed a day at Ems ! 


ON the following morning, Vivian met with his 
friend Essper George, behind a small stall in the 

' Well, your Highness, what do you wish ? Here 
are Eau de Cologne, violet soap, and watch-ribbons ; 
a smelling bottle of Ems crystal ; a snuff-box of fig- 
tree wood. Name your price, name your price : the 
least trifle that can be given by a man who breaks a 
bank, must be more than my whole stock in trade's 
worth.' 'fit, : j 

' I have not paid you yet, Essper, for my glass 
chain. There is your share of my winnings : the 
fame of which, it seems, has reached even you!' 
added Vivian, with no pleased air. 

' I thank your Highness for the Nap ; but I hope 



I have not offended by alluding to a certain event, 
which shall be past over in silence/ continued Essper 
George, with a look of mock solemnity. * I really 
think your Highness has but a faint appetite for 
good fortune. They deserve her most who value 
her least.' 

4 Have you any patrons at Ems, Essper, that have 
induced you to fix on this -place in particular for 
your speculations. Here, I should think you have 
many active rivals,' said Vivian, looking round the 
various stalls. 

4 1 have a patron here, may it please your High- 
ness, a patron who has never deceived, and who will 
never desert me, I want no other ; and that's 
myself. Now here comes a party : could your 
Highness just tell me the name of that tall lady 

* If I tell you it is Lady Madeleine Trevor, what 
will it profit you?' 

Before Vivian could well finish his sentence, Ess- 
per had drawn out a long horn from beneath his 
small counter, and sounded a blast which echoed 
through the arched passages. The attention of 
every one was excited, and no part of the following 
speech was lost. 

' The celebrated Essper George, fresh from Fairy- 
land, dealer in pomatum and all sorts of perfumery, 
watches, crosses, Ems crystal, coloured prints, Dutch 
toys, Dresden china, Venetian chains, Neapolitan 
coral, French crackers, chamois bracelets, tame 
poodles, and Cherokee corkscrews, mender of man- 
dolins, and all other musical instruments, &c. &c. 
&c. &c. to her Royal Highness, Lady Madeleine 
Trevor, and all her royal family, has just arrived at 
Ems, where he only intends to stay two or three 




days, and a few more weeks besides. Now, your 
ladyship, what do you wish ?' 

4 Mr. Grey,' said her ladyship, smiling, c you can 
perhaps explain the reason of this odd greeting. 
Who is this singular being?' 

' The celebrated Essper George, just ' again 

commenced the conjuror ; but Vivian prevented the 

* He is an odd knave, Lady Madeleine, that I've 
met with before, at other places. I believe I may 
add, an honest one. What say you, Essper?' 

4 More honest than moonlight, my lady, for that 
deceives every one ; and less honest than self-praise, 
my lady, for that deceives no one.' 

* My friend, you have a ready wit.' 

* My wit is like a bustling servant, my lady ; al- 
ways ready when not wanted ; and never present at 
a pinch.' 

' Come, I must have a pair of your chamois brace- 
lets. How sell you them ?' 

* I sell nothing, my lady ; all here is gratis to 
beauty, virtue, and nobility : and these are my only 

4 Thanks will not supply a stock-in-trade though, 
Essper,' said Vivian. 

1 Very true ! your Highness ; but my customers 
are apt to leave some slight testimonies behind them 
of the obligations which they are under to me ; and 
these, at the same time, are the prop of my estate 
and the proof of their discretion. But who comes 
here?' said Essper, drawing out his horn. The sight 
of this terrible instrument, reminded Lady Madeleine 
how greatly the effect of music is hightened by dis- 
tance, and she made a speedy retreat. Her lady- 
ship, with her companion, the elderly gentleman with 

33 2 


whom she left the Redoubte the preceding night, 
and Vivian, stopped one moment to watch the party 
to whom Essper George alluded. It was a family 
procession of a striking character. 

Three daughters abreast, flanked by two elder 
sons, formed the first file. The father, a portly pros- 
perous-looking man, followed, with his lady on his 
arm. Then came two nursery maids, with three 
children, between the tender ages of five and 
six. The second division of the grand army, 
consisting of three younger sons, immediately fol- 
lowed. This was commanded by a tutor. A gover- 
ness and two young daughters then advanced ; and 
then came the extreme rear the suttlers of the 
camp in the persons of two footmen in rich laced 
liveries, who each bore a basket on his arm, filled 
with various fancy articles, which had been all pur- 
chased during the promenade of this nation through 
only part of the bazaar. 

* Who can they be ?' said her ladyship. 

* English, 5 said the elderly gentleman ; who had 
been already introduced by Lady Madeleine to 
Vivian as her uncle, Mr. Sherborne. 

The trumpet of Essper George produced a due 
effect upon the great party. The commander-in- 
chief stopped at his little stall, and as if this were the 
signal for general attack and plunder, the files were 
all immediately broken up. Each individual dashed 
at his prey, and the only ones who struggled to main- 
tain a semblance of discipline, were the nursery 
maids, the tutor, and the governess, who experienced 
the greatest difficulty in suppressing the early taste 
which the detachment of light infantry indicated for 
booty. But Essper George was in his element : he 
joked, he assisted, he exhibited, he explained ; tapped 



the cheeks of the children, and complimented the 
elder ones ; and finally, having parted at a pro- 
digious profit with nearly his whole stock, paid him- 
self out of a large and heavy purse, which the portly 
father, in his utter inability to comprehend the com- 
plicated accounts and the debased currency, with 
great frankness deposited in the hands of the master 
of the stall, desiring him to settle his own claims. 

c The tradesman is more singular even than his 
customers,' said Mr. Sherborne ; ' I think you said 
you knew something of him, Mr. Grey.' 

' I knew him, Sir, before, as a conjuror at Frank- 
fort fair.' 

' By a conjuror, do you mean, Mr. Grey, one of 
those persons who profess an ability to summon, by 
the adjuration in a sacred name, a departed spirit ; 
or merely one, who by his dexterity in the practice 
of sleight-of-hand, produces certain optical delusions 
on the sight and senses of his fellow men ?' 

* I met Essper George certainly only in your lat- 
ter capacity, Mr. Sherborne.' 

1 Then, Sir, I cannot agree with you in your defi- 
nition of his character. I should rather style him a 
juggler than a conjuror. Would you call that man 
a conjuror who plays a trick with a cup and balls a 
sprinkling of rice, or a bad shilling ?' 

4 You are perhaps, Sir, critically speaking right ; 
but the world in general are not such purists as Mr. 
Sherborne. I should not hesitate to describe Essper 
George as a conjuror. It is an use of the word 
which common parlance has sanctioned. We must 
always remember that custom is stronger than ety- 

' Sir, are you aware that you're giving loose to 
very dangerous sentiments? I may be too precise, 



I may be too particular ; but Sir, I read Addison 
and Sir, I think Pope a poet.' 

* Then Sir, I am happy to say that our tastes 
agree,' said Vivian, bowing. 

* Pm very happy to hear it Pm very glad of it 
Sir, I congratulate you give me your hand 
you're the first bearable young man that I've met 
with for these last twenty years. Sir, they some- 
times talk of our laws and constitution being in 
danger, which is seldom true how is it that no one 
calls out that our language is in danger? A noble 
poet, whom I honour for his defence of Pope, and 
who, in my opinion, has gained more glory by that 
letter of his, than by all the rhapsodies of false bril- 
liancy, bad taste, and exaggerated feeling, which ever 
claimed the attention of the world under the title of 
Eastern Tales, has called this the AGE OF BRONZE 
why didn't he call it the AGE OF SLANG ?' 

c But, my dear uncle,' said Lady Madeleine, f now 
that you and Mr. Grey understand each other, you 
surely will not maintain that his use of the word 
conjuror was erroneous. Custom surely has some 
influence upon language. You would think me very 
affected, Pm sure, if I were to talk of putting on a 

' My dear, Mr. Grey was right, and I was wrong ; 
I carried the point a little too far ; but I feel it my 
duty to take every opportunity of informing the 
youth of the present day that I hold them in absolute 
contempt. Their affectation, their heartlessness, 
their artificial feelings, their want of all real, genuine, 
gentlemanly, English sentiments, and, above all, 
their slang, have disgusted me I'm very glad to 
find that Mr. Grey is not guilty of these follies 
I'm very glad to find that he believes that a man 



older than himself is not quite a fool I wish I could 
say as much for Albert. Mr. Grey was certainly 
right : next to being correct, a man should study 
to be candid I haven't met with a candid man these 
fifty years no one now will own, by any chance, 
they're ever wrong. Now, for myself, it's very odd, 
I never form a hasty opinion, and yet I'm not always 
right : but I always own it I make it the principle 
or my life to be candid.' 

' I hope I may be allowed to ask after Miss Fane, 
although I have not the honour of her acquaint- 

' She continues much better ; my uncle and my- 
self are now about to join her in the Limewalk, 
where, by this time, she and Albert must have ar- 
rived ; if you are not otherwise engaged, and will 
join our morning stroll, it will give us much plea- 

Nothing in the world could give Vivian greater 
pleasure ; he felt himself irresistibly impelled to 
the side of Lady Madeleine ; and only regretted his 
acquaintance with the Baron, because he felt con- 
scious that there was some secret cause, which pre- 
vented that intimacy from existing between his 
Excellency and the Trevor party, which his amusing 
talents and his influential rank would otherwise have 
easily produced. When they reached the Lime- 
walk, Miss Fane and her cousin were not there, al- 
though the time of appointment was considerably 

* I hope nothing has happened,' said Lady Made- 
leine ; * I trust she is not taken unwell.' 

* Quite improbable ! ' said Mr. Sherborne ; < there 
must be some other reason : if she were unwell, the 
servant would have been here.' 



* Let us return,' said Lady Madeleine. 

1 By no means, my dear,' said Mr. Sherborne, who 
had the greatest affection for his nieces ; ' Mr. Grey 
will, I have no doubt, have the goodness to remain 
with your ladyship, and I will fetch Violet ; you may 
depend upon it, she is ready to come ; ' so saying, 
Mr. Sherborne stalked off at a very quick pace. 

4 My dear uncle is rather a character, Mr. Grey ; 
but he is as remarkable for his excellence of heart, 
as for any little peculiarities in his habits. I am glad 
that you have made a favourable impression upon 
him ; because, as I hope you will be much in his 
company, you stand now no chance of being in- 
cluded in the list of young men whom he delights 
to torment, at the head of which, I regret to say, is 
my brother. By-the-bye, I do not know whether I 
may be allowed to congratulate you upon your bril- 
liant success at the Redoute last night. It is for- 
tunate, that all have not to regret your arrival at 
Ems as much as poor Mr. Hermann.' 

' The run of fortune was certainly most extraor- 
dinary. I'm only sorry that the Goddess should 
have showered her favours on one who neither 
deserves, nor desires them ; for I've no wish to be 
rich ; and as I never lost by her caprices, it is hardly 
fair that I should gain by them.' 

{ You do not play then, much ?' 

' I never played in my life, till last night. Gamb- 
ling has never been one of my follies ; although my 
catalogue of errors is fuller, perhaps, than most 

c I think Baron von Konigstein was your partner 
in the exploit.' 

' He was ; and apparently as little pleased at the 
issue, as myself.' 

Y 337 


4 Indeed! Have you known the Baron long?' 

* You will be surprised to hear that we are only 
friends of a week. I have been living, ever since I 
was in Germany, a most retired life. A circumstance 
of a most painful nature drove me from England 
a circumstance of which, I can hardly flatter my- 
self, and can hardly wish, that your ladyship should 
be ignorant.' 

1 1 am not unacquainted, Mr. Grey,' said Lady 
Madeleine, much moved, c with an unhappy event, 
which we need not again mention. Believe me, 
that I learnt the sad history from one, who, while he 
spoke the rigid truth, spoke of the living sufferer in 
terms of the fondest affection.' 

' A father ! ' said Vivian, with an agitation which 
he did not affect to suppress, { a father can hardly be 
expected to be impartial.' 

1 Such a father as yours must always be so. He 
is one of those men who must be silent, or speak 
truth. I only wish that he was with us now, to 
assist me in bringing about what he must greatly 
desire your return to England.' 

' It cannot be it cannot be I look back to the 
last year which I spent in that country with feelings 
of such disgust, I look forward to a return to that 
country with feelings of such repugnance that 
but I feel I'm trespassing beyond all bounds, in 
dwelling on these subjects to your ladyship. They 
are those on which I have never yet conversed with 
human being ; but the unexpected meeting with a 
friend with a friend of my father, I mean, has sur- 
prised me into a display of feelings which I thought 
were dead within me ; and for which, I am sure, the 
custom of society requires an apology.' 

4 Oh! do not say so, Mr. Grey do not say so! 


When I promised your father, that in case we met, I 
should even seek your society, I entered into an en- 
gagement, which, though I am surprised I am now 
called upon to fulfil, I did not form in a careless spirit. 
Let us understand each other : I am inclined to be 
your friend, if you will permit it ; and the object 
which I wish to obtain by our friendship, I have not 
concealed : at least, I am frank. I have suffered too 
much myself, not to understand how dangerous, and 
how deceitful is the excess of grief. You have al- 
lowed yourself to be overcome by that which Provid- 
ence intended as a lesson of instruction not as a 
sentence of despair. In your solitude you have 
increased the shadow of those fantasies of a heated 
brain, which converse with the pure sunshine of the 
world, would have enabled you to dispel.' 

c The pure sunshine of the world, Lady Made- 
leine! would that it had ever lighted me! My 
youth flourished in the unwholesome sultriness of a 
blighted atmosphere, which I mistook for the re- 
splendent brilliancy of a summer-day. How deceived 
I was, you may judge, not certainly from finding me 
here ; but I am here, because I have ceased to suffer, 
only in having ceased to hope.' 

* You have ceased to hope, Mr. Grey, because 
hope and consolation are not the visible companions 
of solitude, which are of a darker nature. Hope 
and consolation spring from those social affections, 
which your father, among others, has taught me to 
believe imperishable. With such a parent, are you 
justified in acting the part of a misanthrope ? Ought 
you not rather to hope, to believe that there are 
others, whose principle of being is as benevolent, if 
not as beneficial as his own ?' 

'Lady Madeleine, I do believe it; if I had 


doubted it, my doubts must end this day ; but you 
mistake in believing that I am a misanthrope. It 
is not Sorrow now that makes me sad ; but Thought 
that has made me grave. I have done with grief ; 
but my release from suffering has been gained at a 
high price. The ransom which freed me from the 
slavery of sorrow was HAPPINESS.' 

* I am no metaphysician, Mr. Grey, but I fear you 
have embraced a dark philosophy. Converse with 
the world, now that your passions are subdued, and 
your mind matured, will do more for you than all 
the arguments of philosophers. I hope yet to find 
you a believer in the existence of that good which we 
all worship, and all pursue. Happiness comes when 
we least expect it, and to those who strive least to 
obtain it as you were fortunate yesterday at the 
Redoute, when you played without an idea of win- 
ning. The truth seems, that after all, we are the 
authors of our own sorrow. In an eager pursuit to 
be happy, and to be rich, men do many unwise, and 
some unprincipled actions ; it ends in their becoming 
miserable, and continuing poor. The common 
course of events will bring to each mortal his fair 
share of fortune. The whole secret of life seems to 
be to restrain our passions, and let the common 
course of events have its run. But I will not enter 
into an argument which I have not the vanity to 
suppose that I possess the ability to maintain ; and 
yet which I feel that I ought not to have the weak- 
ness to lose. But here comes my uncle, and Violet 
too ! Well, my dear Sir, you've brought the truant, 
I see!' 

Brought her, indeed, dear little thine: ! I knew 
it was not her fault ; I said she was not unwell ; I 
wonder what St. George will do next! Mr. Grey, 



this is my niece, Violet, Miss Fane : and Violet, my 
dear, this is Mr. Grey, and I wish all persons of his 
age were like him. As for the Honourable Mr. St. 

O - a 

George, he gets more unbearable every day. I sup- 
pose soon he'll " cut " his own family. 5 

' Well, I regret uncle, that I think in this business 
you are entirely wrong,' said Miss Fane. 

' Now, Violet ! now, how can you be so wilful ! 
to contradict me so, when you haven't a shadow of a 
defence for your cousin's unprincipled conduct!' 

* My dear uncle, is it so unprincipled to break an 
appointment ? I think it is one of the most agree- 
able and pleasant habits in the world. No young 
man is expected to keep an appointment.' 

4 Now, Violet ! how can you go on so ? You 
know if there's one thing in the world that I detest 
more than another, it is breaking an appointment 
a vice, which, as far as I can observe, has originated 
in your young men of the present day. And who 
the devil are these young men, that the whole sys- 
tem of civilized society is to be disorganised for their 
convenience? Young men, indeed! I hate the 
phrase. I wish I could hear of more young gentle- 
men, and fewer young men. There isn't a young 
man in the world for whom I haven't the most sover- 
eign contempt ; I don't mean you, Mr. Grey. I've 
the highest respect for you. I mean that mass of 
half-educated, inexperienced, insolent, conceited 
puppies, who think every man's a fool who's older 
than themselves ; whose manners are a mixture of 
the vices of all nations, and whose talk is the lan- 
guage of none ; at the head of whom is my nephew 
your brother, Lady Madeleine Trevor your 
cousin, Violet Fane I mean Mr. Albert St. George.' 

Mr. Sherborne had now worked himself into a 


terrible passion ; and the two ladies increased his 
irritability, by their incessant laughter. 

' Well, I confess I do not see that Albert deserves 
this tirade,' continued Miss Fane ; ' only think, my 
dear uncle, how many unexpected demands a man 
has upon his time. For all we know, unforeseen busi- 
ness may have peremptorily required Albert's atten- 
tion. How do you know that he hasn't been look- 
ing at a horse for a friend ; or completing the 
purchase of a monkey ; or making some discoveries 
in the highest branches of experimental philosophy? 
perhaps he has succeeded in lighting his cigar with a 
burning glass.' 

< Miss Fane!' 

<Mr. Sherborne!' 

' If I were here alone, if Lady Madeleine were only 
here, I could excuse this ; but how are you to answer 
to your conscience giving a stranger, Mr. Grey, a 
young gentleman for whom I have the greatest re- 
spect, the impression that you, my niece, can tolerate 
for a moment, the existence of such monstrous ab- 
surdities is to me the most unaccountable thing 
that ' 

' My dear uncle! how do you know that Mr. 
Grey has not got a monkey himself? You really 
should remember who is present, when you are de- 
livering these philippics on the manners of the 
present century, and be cautious, lest, at the same 
time, you are not only violent, but personal.' 

' Now Violet, my dear ! ' 

' My dear Sir ! ' said Lady Madeleine, { Violet is 
exerting herself too much ; you know you are an 
enchanted lady at present, and may neither laugh, 
speak, nor sing.' 

' Well then, dear uncle, let us talk no more of poor 


Albert's want of memory. Had he come, I should 
very likely have been unwell, and then he would 
have stayed at home the whole morning for no 
earthly good. As it is, here I am ; with the pros- 
pect of a very pleasant walk, not only feeling quite 
well, but decidedly better every day, so now let us 
make an apology to Mr. Grey, for having kept him 
so long standing.' 

( Violet, you're an angel ! though I'm your uncle, 
who say so ; and perhaps, after all, as it wasn't a 
positive appointment, St. George is not so much to 
blame. And I will say this for him, that with all 
his faults, he is on the whole very respectful to me, 
and I sometimes try him hard. I'm not in the habit 
of making hasty observations, but if ever I find my- 
self doing so, I'm always ready to own it. There's 
no excuse, however, for his not fetching you, my 
dear! what business had he to be going about with 
that Baron von Konigstein that foreign ' 

' Friend of Mr. Grey's, my dear uncle,' said Lady 

1 Humph!' 

As Mr. Sherborne mentioned the Baron's name, 
the smiling face of Lady Madeleine Trevor became 
clouded, but the emotion was visible only for a 
moment, as the soft shadow steals over the sunny 
wood. Miss Fane led on her uncle, as if she were 
desirous to put an end to the conversation. 

' You would scarcely imagine, Mr. Grey, from 
my cousin's appearance, and high spirits, that we 
are travelling for her health ; nor do her physicians, 
indeed, give us any cause for serious uneasiness 
yet I confess, that at times, I cannot help feeling very 
great anxiety. Her flushed cheek, and the alarming 
languor which constantly succeeds any exertion or 



excitement, make me fear that her complaint is more 
deeply seated than they are willing to acknowledge.' 

* Let us hope that the extraordinary heat of the 
weather may account, in a great degree, for this dis- 
tressing languor.' 

* We are willing to adopt any reasoning that gives 
us hope, but I cannot help remembering that her 
mother died of consumption.' 

c Oh ! Lady Madeleine,' said Miss Fane, looking 
back, ' do not you think I'm strong enough to walk 
as far as the New Spring? My uncle says, he is 
sure that I should be much better if I took more 
exercise, and I really want to see it. Can't we go 
to-morrow? I dare say, as Albert played truant to- 
day, he will condescend to escort us.' 

* Condescend, indeed ! when I was a young 
man ' 

' You a young man ! I don't believe you ever 
were a young man,' said Miss Fane, putting a small 
hand before a large open mouth, which was about 
to deliver the usual discourse on the degeneracy of 
the ' present day.' 

The walk was most agreeable ; and, with the ex- 
ception of one argument upon the principles of the 
picturesque, which Mr. Sherborne insisted upon 
Vivian's entering into, and in which, of course, that 
gentleman soon had the pleasure of proving himself 
candid by confessing himself confuted, it passed over 
without any disturbance from that most worthy and 
etymological individual. This was the first day, for 
nearly a year and a half, that Vivian Grey had joined 
with beings whose talents and virtues he respected, 
in calm and rational conversation ; this was nearly 
the first day in his life that Vivian Grey had con- 
versed with any individuals, with no sinister views 



of self-advancement, and self-interest. He found 
his conversation, like his character, changed ; treat- 
ing of things, rather than men ; of nature, rather 
than society. To-day there was no false brilliancy 
to entrap the unwary ; no splendid paradoxes to as- 
tound the weak ; no poignant scandal to amuse the 
vile. He conversed calmly, without eagerness, and 
without passion ; and delivering with ability his 
conscientious opinion upon subjects which he had 
studied, and which he understood, he found that 
while he interested others, he had also been interested 


WHEN the walking party returned home, they found 
a crowd of idle domestics assembled opposite the 
house, round a group of equipages, consisting of 
two enormous crimson carriages, a britchka, and a 
large caravan, on all which vehicles the same coat of 
arms was most ostentatiously blazoned. 

' Some great arrival ! ' said Miss Fane. 

' It must be the singular party that we watched 
this morning in the bazaar,' said Lady Madeleine. 
' Oh, Violet ! I've such a curious character to intro- 
duce you to, a particular friend of Mr. Grey's, who 
wishes very much to have the honour of your ac- 
quaintance, MR. ESSPER GEORGE. 

' What an odd name ! Is he an Englishman ?' 

* His appearance is still more singular than his 
title. You shall see him to-morrow.' 

' These carriages, then, belong to him ?' 

' Not exactly,' said Vivian. 

In an hour's time, the party again met at dinner 
in the saloon. By the joint exertions of Ernstorff, 
and Mr. St. George's servants, the Baron, Vivian, 




and the Chevalier de Boeffleurs, were now seated next 
to the party of Lady Madeleine Trevor. 

* My horses fortunately arrived from Frankfort 
this morning,' said the Baron. * Mr. St. George and 
myself have been taking a ride very far up the val- 
ley. Has your ladyship yet been to the Castle of 

4 1 am ashamed to say we have not. The expedi- 
tion has been one of those plans, often arranged, and 
never executed.' 

* Oh ! you should go by all means ; it was one of 
my favourite spots : I took Mr. St. George there 
this morning. The ruin is one of the finest in Ger- 
many, which, as your ladyship is well aware, is the 
land of ruins. An expedition to Nassau Castle 
would be a capital foundation for a pic-nic. Con- 
ceive, Miss Fane, a beautiful valley which was dis- 
covered by a knight, in the middle ages, following 
the track of a stag how exquisitely romantic! 
The very incident vouches for its sweet seclusion. 
Cannot you imagine the wooded mountains, the old 
grey ruin, the sound of the unseen river? What 
more should we want, except agreeable company, 
fine music, and the best provisions, to fancy ourselves 
in Paradise?' 

4 You certainly give a most glowing description,' 
said Miss Fane. ' Why, Mr. Grey, this lovely val- 
ley would be a model for the solitude we were plan- 
ning this morning. I almost wish that your Excel- 
lency's plan were practicable.' 

' I take the whole arrangement upon myself ; 
there is not a difficulty. The ladies shall go on 
donkeys, or we might make a water excursion of it 
part of the way, and the donkeys can meet us at the 
pass near Stein, and then the gentlemen may walk ; 



and if you fear the water at night, which is, perhaps, 
dangerous, why then the carriages may come round : 
and if your own be too heavy for mountain roads, 
my britchka is always at your command. You see 
there is not a difficulty.' 

* Not a difficulty,' said Mr. St. George : < Made- 
leine, we only wait for your consent.' 

* Which will not be withheld a minute, Albert ; 
but I think we had better put off the execution of 
our plan till June is a little more advanced. I must 
have a fine summer night for Violet.' 

' Well, then, I hold the whole party present, en- 
gaged to follow my standard whenever I have per- 
mission from the high authority to unfold it,' said 
the Baron, bowing to Lady Madeleine : * and lest, 
on cool reflection, I shall not possess influence enough 
to procure the appointment, I shall, like a skilful 
orator, take advantage of your feelings, which grati- 
tude for this excellent plan must have already enlisted 
in my favour, and propose myself as Master of the 
Ceremonies.' The Baron's eye caught Lady Made- 
leine's, as he uttered this, and something like a smile, 
rather of pity than derision, lighted up her face. 

Here Vivian turned round to give some directions 
to an attendant, and to his horror, found Essper 
George standing behind his chair. 

' Is there any thing your Highness wants ?' 

Essper was always particularly neat in his appear- 
ance, but to-day the display of clean linen was quite 
ostentatious ; and to make the exposure still more 
terrific, he had, for the purpose of varying his cos- 
tume, turned his Huzzar-jacket inside-out, and now 
appeared in a red coat, lined with green.' 

' Who ordered you here, Sir?' 

* My duty.' 



' In what capacity do you attend?' 

' As your Highness' servant.' 

4 I insist upon your leaving the room directly.' 

Here Essper looked very suppliant, and began to 
pant like a hunted hare. 

' Ah ! my friend, Essper George,' said Lady 
Madeleine, * are you there ? What's the matter, is 
any one ill-treating you?' 

4 This then is Essper George!' said Violet Fane, 
4 what kind of creature can he possibly be ? Why, 
Mr. Grey, what's the matter?' 

4 I'm merely discharging a servant at a moment's 
warning, Miss Fane ; and if you wish to engage his 
constant attendance upon yourself, I have no objec- 
tion to give him a character for the occasion.' 

'What do you want, Essper?' said Miss Fane. 

* I merely wanted to see whether your walk this 
morning had done your Highness' appetite any 
good,' answered Essper, looking very disconsolate ; 
' and so I thought I might make myself useful at 
the same time ; and though I don't bring on the 
soup in a cocked hat, and carve the venison with a 
couteau-de-chassej continued he, bowing very low to 
Ernstorff, who standing stiff behind his master's 
chair, seemed utterly unaware that any other person 
in the room could experience a necessity ; * still I 
can change a plate, or hand the wine, without crack- 
ing the first, or drinking the second.' 

c And very good qualities too ! ' said Miss Fane. 
* Come, Essper, you shall put your accomplishments 
into practice immediately, so change my plate.' 

This Essper did with the greatest dexterity and 
quiet, displaying at the same time a small white 
hand, on the back of which was marked a comet and 
three daggers. As he had the discretion not to open 



his mouth, and performed all his duties with great 
skill, his intrusion in a few minutes was not only 
pardoned but forgotten. 

4 There has been a great addition to the visitors 
to-day, I see,' said Lady Madeleine : pray who are 
the new-comers?' 

* English,' said the Chevalier, who, seated at a 
considerable distance from her ladyship, had not 
spoken a word during the whole dinner. 

* I'll tell you all about them,' said the Baron. 
'This family is one of those, whose existence astounds 
the Continent much more than any of your mighty 
dukes and earls, whose fortunes, though colossal, can 
be conceived ; and whose rank is understood. Mr. 
Fitzloom is a very different personage ; for, thirty 
years ago he was a journeyman cotton-spinner ; some 
miraculous invention in machinery entitled him to 
a patent, which has made him one of the most im- 
portant landed-proprietors in Great Britain. He 
has lately been returned a member for a great manu- 
facturing city ; and he intends to get over the two 
first years of his parliamentary career, by successively 
monopolizing the accommodation of all the prinicpal 
cities of France, Germany, Switzerland, and Italy; 
and by raising the price of provisions and post-horses 
through a track of five thousand miles. My infor- 
mation is authentic, for I had a casual acquaintance 
with him in England. There was some talk of a 
contract for supplying our army from England, and I 
saw Fitzloom often on the subject ; I have spoken 
to him to-day. This is by no means the first of the 
species that we have had in Germany. I can assure 
you, that the plain traveller feels seriously the incon- 
venience of following such a caravan. Their money 
flows with such unwise prodigality, that real liberality 




ceases to be valued ; and many of your nobility have 
complained to me, that, in their travels, they are now 
often expostulated with, on account of their parsi- 
mony, and taunted with the mistaken extravagance 
of a stocking-maker, or a porter-brewer.' 

< What pleasure can such people find in travel- 
ling?' wondered the honourable and the aristocratic 
Mr. St. George. 

4 As much pleasure, and more profit, than half the 
young men of the present day. In my time, travel- 
ling was undertaken on a very different system to 
what it is now. The English youth then travelled 
to frequent, what Lord Bacon says are " especially 
to be seen and observed the Courts of Princes." 
You all travel now, it appears, to look at mountains, 
and catch cold in spouting trash on lakes by moon- 
light. You all think you know every thing, none of 
you know any thing.' 

f But my dear Sir ! ' said the Baron, < although I 
willingly grant you, that one of the great advan- 
tages of travel is the opportunity which it affords 
us of becoming acquainted with human nature in 
all its varieties, as developed by different climates, 
different customs, different governments, and con- 
sequently of becoming enabled to form an opinion 
as to the general capabilities of man ; and which 
knowledge is, of course, chiefly gained where human 
beings most congregate great cities, and as you say, 
the Courts of Princes : still, Sir, we must also not 
the less forget, that one of the great benefits of travel 
is, that it enlarges a man's experience, not only of his 
fellow-creatures in particular, but of Nature in gene- 
ral. And this not merely by enabling him to see a 
quantity and a variety of landscape, but by permit- 
ting him to watch Nature at various times and sea- 



sons. Many men pass through life without seeing 
a sunrise : a traveller cannot. If human experience 
be gained by seeing men in their undress, not only 
when they are conscious of the presence of others; 
natural experience is only to be acquired by studying 
Nature at all periods, not merely when man is busy, 
and the beasts asleep.' 

< But what's the use of this deep experience of 
Nature? Men are born to converse with men, not 
with stocks and stones. He who has studied Le 
Sage, will be more happy and more successful in this 
world, than the man who muses over Rousseau.' 

* There I agree with you, Mr. Sherborne, I have 
no wish to make man an anchorite. But as to the 
utility, the benefit of a thorough experience of 
Nature, it appears to me to be evident. It increases 
our stock of ideas ' 

' So does every thing.' 

* But it does more than this, Sir. It calls into be- 
ing new emotions, it gives rise to new and beautiful 
associations ; it creates that salutary state of mental 
excitement which renders our ideas more lucid, our 
conceptions more vivid, and our conclusions more 
sound. Can we too much esteem a study which, at 
the same time, renders our imagination more active, 
and our judgment more correct?' 

* Well, Sir, there may be something in what you 
say, but not much.' 

' But my dear Sir,' said Lady Madeleine, ' if his 
Excellency will allow me to support an argument, 
which in his hands can require no assistance, do not 
you think that a full communion with Nature is 
calculated to elevate our souls, and purify our pas- 
sions, to ' 

c So is reading your bible, my dear. A man's 


soul should always be elevated ; and his passions 
would then require little purification. If they are 
not, he might look at mountains for ever, but I 
should not trust him a jot more.' 

* But, Sir,' continued the Baron, with unusual 
warmth ; c I am clear that there are cases in which 
the influence of nature has worked what you profess 
to treat as an impossibility, or a miracle. I am my- 
self acquainted with an instance of a very peculiar 
character. A few years ago, a gentleman of high 
rank found himself exposed to the unhappy sus- 
picion of being connected with some disgraceful and 
dishonourable transactions, which took place in the 
highest circles of England. Unable to find any 
specific charge which he could meet, he added one 
to the numerous catalogue of those unfortunate be- 
ings who have sunk in society, the victims of a 
surmise. He quitted England ; and disgusted with 
the world, became the profligate which he had been 
falsely believed to be. At the house of Cardinal 
*****, at Naples, celebrated even in that city 
for its midnight orgies, and not only for its baccha- 
nal revels, this gentleman became a constant guest. 
He entered with a mad eagerness into every species 
of dissipation, although none gave him pleasure ; 
and his fortune, his health, and the powers of his 
mind, were all fast vanishing. One night, one hor- 
rible night of frantic dissipation, a mock election of 
Master of the Sports was proposed, and the hero of 
my tale had the splendid gratification of being chosen 
by unanimous consent to this new office. About 
two o'clock of the same night, he left the palace of 
the Cardinal, with an intention of returning. His 
way on his return led by the Chiaja, which you, Mr. 
Sherborne, who have been in Naples, perhaps re- 

35 2 


member. It was one of those nights which we 
witness only in the South. The blue and brilliant 
sea was sleeping beneath a cloudless sky ; and the 
moon not only shed her light over the orange and 
lemon trees, which, springing from their green banks 
of myrtle, hung over the water, but added fresh 
lustre to the white domes, and glittering towers of 
the city ; and flooded Vesuvius and the distant coast 
with light, as far even as Capua. The individual of 
whom I am speaking, had passed this spot on many 
nights when the moon was not less bright, the waves 
not less silent, and the orange trees not less sweet ; 
but to-night to-night something irresistible im- 
pelled him to stop. What a contrast to the artificial 
light, and heat, and splendour of the pakce to which 
he was returning. He mused in silence. Would 
it not be wiser to forget the world's injustice, in 
gazing on a moonlit ocean, than in discovering in the 
illumined halls of Naples, the baseness of the crowd 
which forms the world's power? To enjoy the re- 
freshing luxury of a fanning breeze which now arose, 
he turned and gazed on the other side of the bay. 
Upon his right stretched out the promontory of 
Pausilippo ; there were the shores of Baiae. But it 
was not only the loveliness of the land which now 
overcame his spirit ; he thought of those whose 
fame had made us forget even the beauty of these 
shores, in associations of a higher character, and a 
more exalted nature. He remembered the time 
when it was his only wish to be numbered among 
them. How had his early hopes been fulfilled! 
What just account had he rendered to himself and 
to his country that country that had expected so 
much that self that had aspired even to more! 
* Day broke over the city, and found him still 
z 353 


pacing down the Chiaja. He did not return to the 
Cardinal's Palace ; and in two days he had left 
Naples. I can myself, from personal experience, 
aver that this individual is now an useful and honour- 
able member of society. The world speaks of him 
in more flattering terms.' 

The Baron spoke with great energy and anima- 
tion. Violet Fane, who had been very silent, and 
who certainly had not encouraged by any apparent 
interest the previous conversation of the Baron, 
listened to this anecdote with the most eager atten- 
tion ; but the effect it produced upon Lady Made- 
leine Trevor was most remarkable. At one moment 
Vivian thought that her ladyship would have fainted. 

c Well ! ' said Mr. Sherborne, who first broke sil- 
ence, ' I suppose you all think I'm wrong : I should 
like to hear your opinion, Mr. Grey, of this busi- 
ness. What do you think of the question?' 

c Yes, pray give us your opinion, Mr. Grey,' said 
Lady Madeleine with eagerness ; as if she thought 
that conversation would give her relief. The ex- 
pression of her countenance did not escape Vivian. 

* I must side against you, Mr. Sherborne,' said 
he ; * his Excellency has, I think, made out his point. 
It appears to me, however, that there is one great 
argument in favour of a study of Nature, and, in- 
deed, of travelling, which I think I have never seen 
used. It matures a man's mind, because it teaches 
him to distrust his judgment. He who finds that 
his preconceptions of natural appearances are erron- 
eous,will in time suspect that his opinions of human 
nature may be equally incorrect ; in short, that 
his moral conceptions may be as .erroneous as his 
material ones.' 

* Well ! I suppose I must give up. Its very odd, 



I never form a hasty opinion, and yet I'm sometimes 
wrong. Never above owning it though never 
above owning it not like the young men of the 
present day, who are so confoundedly addicted to 
every species of error, that, for my own part, when- 
ever they seem to suspect that they're wrong, I'm 
always sure that they're right.' 

Here the party broke up. The promenade fol- 
lowed the Archduke his compliments and cour- 
tiers then came the Redoute. Mr. Hermann 
bowed low as the gentlemen walked up to the table. 
The Baron whispered Vivian that it was * expected ' 
that they should play, and give the tables a chance 
of winning back their money. Vivian staked with 
the carelessness of one who wishes to lose. As is 
generally the case under such circumstances, he again 
left the Redoute a most considerable winner. He 
parted with the Baron at his Excellency's door, and 
proceeded to the next, which was his own. Here he 
stumbled over something at the doorway, which ap- 
peared like a large bundle. He bent down with his 
light to examine it, and found Essper George, lying 
on his back, with his eyes half-open. It was some 
moments before Vivian perceived he was asleep ; 
stepping gently over him, he entered his apart- 


WHEN Vivian rose in the morning, a gentle tap at 
his door announced the presence of an early visitor, 
who, being desired to enter, appeared in the person 
of Essper George. 

* Does your Highness want any thing?' asked 
Essper, with a very submissive air. 



Vivian stared at him for a moment, and then or- 
dered him to come in. 

* I had forgotten, Essper, until this moment, that 
on returning to my room last night, I found you 
sleeping at my door. This also reminds me of your 
conduct in the saloon yesterday ; and as I wish to 
prevent the repetition of such improprieties, I shall 
take this opportunity of informing you once for all, 

i / 1 e i ir - i 

that ir you do not in future conduct yourself with 
more discretion, I must apply to the Maitre d'Hotel. 
Now, Sir! what do you want?' 

Essper was silent, and stood with his hands crossed 
on his breast, and his eyes fixed on the ground. 

* If you do not want any thing, quit the room 

Here the singular being began to weep and sob 
most bitterly. 

* Poor fellow!' thought Vivian, *I fear with all 
thy wit and pleasantry, and powers, thou art, after 
all, but one of those capriccios, which Nature some- 
times indulges in ; merely to show how superior is 
her accustomed order to eccentricities, even accom- 
panied with the rarest and most extraordinary 

* What is your wish, Essper ?' continued Vivian, 
in a kinder tone. c If there be any service, any real 
service, that I can do you, you will not find me back- 
ward. Are you in trouble? you surely are not in 
want ?' 

* No, no, no!' sobbed Essper ; < I wish to be to 
be your Highness' servant,' here he hid his face in 
his hands. 

c My servant ! why surely if, as I have reason to 
suppose, you can maintain yourself with ease by 
your own exertions, it is not very wise conduct, 



voluntarily, to seek out a dependence upon any man. 
Pm afraid that you've been keeping company too 
much with the set of lazy, indolent, and insolent lac- 
queys, that are always loitering about these bathing 
places. ErnstorrPs green livery and sword, have 
they not turned your brain, Essper? how is it? 
tell me.' 

c No, no, no ! but I want to be your Highness' 
servant, only your Highness' servant, I'm tired of 
living alone.' 

' But, Essper, remember, that to gain a situation 
as a servant, you must be a person of regular habits 
and certain reputation. I have myself a very good 
opinion of you, but I have myself seen very little of 
you, though more than any one here ; and I am a 
person of a peculiar turn of mind. Perhaps there is 
not another individual in this house, who would even 
allude to the possibility of engaging a servant with- 
out a character.' 

' Does the ship ask the wind for a character, when 
he bears her over the sea without hire, and without 
reward ? and shall your Highness require a character 

C IT * -1 

from me, when I request to serve you without wages, 
and without pay?' 

* Such an engagement, Essper, it would be impos- 
sible for me to enter into, even if I had need of your 
services, which at present I have not. But I tell 
you, frankly, that I see no chance of your suiting 
me. I should require an attendant of steady habits 
and experience ; not one whose very appearance 
would attract attention when I wished to be unob- 
served, and acquire a notoriety for the master which 
he detests. There is little likelihood of my requiring 
any one's services, and with every desire to assist 
you, I warmly advise you to give up all idea of en- 



tering into a state of life, for which you are not the 
least suited. If, on consideration, you still retain 
your wish of becoming a servant, and remain at the 
Baths with the expectation of finding a master, I 
recommend you to assume, at least for the moment, 
a semblance of regularity of habits. I have spoken 
to a great many ladies here, about your chamois 
bracelets, for which I think you will find a great 
demand. Believe me, your stall will be a better 
friend than your master. Now leave me.' 

Essper remained one moment with his eyes still 
fixed on the ground ; then walking very rapidly up 
to Vivian, he dropped on his knee, kissed his hand, 
and disappeared. 

Mr. St. George breakfasted with the Baron, and 
the gentlemen called on Lady Madeleine early in the 
morning to propose a drive to Stein Castle ; but her 
ladyship excused herself, and Vivian following her * 
example, the Baron and Mr. St. George ' patronized ' 
the Fitzlooms, because there was nothing else to do. 
Vivian again joined the ladies in their morning walk ; 
but Violet Fane was not in her usual high spirits 
she complained more than once of her cousin's ab- 
sence ; and this, connected with some other circum- 
stances, gave Vivian the first impression that her 
feelings towards Mr. St. George were not merely 
those of a relation. As to the Chevalier de Boef- 
fleurs,Vivian soon found that it was utterly impos- 
sible to be on intimate terms with a being without an 
idea. The Chevalier was certainly not a very fit 
representative of the gay, gallant, mercurial French- 
man : he rose very late, and employed the whole of 
the morning in reading the French newspapers, and 
playing billiards alternately with Prince Salvinski, 
and Count von Altenburgh. 



These gentlemen, as well as the Baron, Vivian, 
and Mr. St. George, were to dine this day at the 
New House. 

They found assembled, at the appointed hour, a 
party of about thirty individuals. The dinner was 
sumptuous the wines superb. At the end of the 
banquet, the company adjourned to another room, 
where play was proposed, and immediately com- 
menced. His Imperial Highness did not join in the 
game ; but, seated in a corner of the apartment, was 
surrounded by five or six aid-de-camps, whose only 
business was to bring their master constant accounts 
of the fortunes of the table, and the fate of his bets. 
His Highness did not stake. 

Vivian soon found that the game was played on a 
very different scale at the New House to what it 
was at the Redoute. He spoke most decidedly to 
the Baron of his detestation of gambling, and ex- 
pressed his unwillingness to play ; but his Excel- 
lency, although he agreed with him in his sentiments, 
advised him to conform for the evening to the uni- 
versal custom. As he could afford to lose, he con- 
sented, and staked boldly. This night very con- 
siderable sums were lost and won ; but none returned 
home greater winners than Mr. St. George and 
Vivian Grey. 


THE first few days of an acquaintance with a new 
scene of life, and with new characters, generally ap- 
pear to pass very slowly ; not certainly from the 
weariness which they induce, but rather from the 
keen attention which every little circumstance com- 
mands. When the novelty has worn off, when we 
have discovered that the new characters differ little 



from all others we have met before, and that the 
scene they inhabit is only another variety of the great 
order we have so often observed, we relapse into our 
ancient habits of inattention ; we think more of our- 
selves, and less of those we meet ; and musing our 
moments away in reverie, or in a vain attempt to 
cheat the coming day of the monotony of the present 
one, we begin to find that the various-vested Hours 
have bounded, and are bounding away in a course 
at once imperceptible, uninteresting, and unprofit- 
able. Then it is, that terrified at our nearer approach 
to the great river, whose dark windings it seems the 
business of all to forget, we start from our stupor 
to mourn over the rapidity of that collective sum 
of past-time, every individual hour of which we 
have in turn execrated for its sluggishness. 

Vivian had now been three weeks at Ems, and the 
presence of Lady Madeleine Trevor and her cousin 
alone induced him to remain. Whatever was the 
mystery existing between her ladyship and the Baron, 
and that there was some mystery Vivian could not 
for a moment doubt, his Excellency's efforts to at- 
tach himself to her party had been successful. The 
great intimacy subsisting between the Baron and her 
Ladyship's brother materially assisted in bringing 
about this result. For the first fortnight, the Baron 
was Lady Madeleine's constant attendant in the 
evening promenade, and often in the morning walk ; 
and though there were few persons whose com- 
panionship could be preferred to that of Baron von 
Konigstein, still Vivian sometimes regretted that his 
friend and Mr. St. George had not continued their 
morning rides. The presence of his Excellency 
seemed always to have an unfavourable influence 
upon the spirits of Violet Fane, and the absurd and 



evident jealousy of Mr. St. George, prevented 
Vivian from finding, in her agreeable conversation, 
some consolation for the loss of the sole enjoyment 
of Lady Madeleine's exhilarating presence. Mr. St, 
George had never met Vivian's advances with cordi- 
ality, and he now treated him with studied coldness. 

The visits of the gentlemen to the New House 
had been frequent. The saioon of the Archduke 
was open every evening, and in spite of his great 
distaste for the fatal amusement which was there in- 
variably pursued, Vivian found it utterly impossible 
to decline frequently attending, without subjecting 
his motives to painful misconception. His fortune, 
his extraordinary fortune did not desert him, and 
rendered his attendance still more a duty. The 
Baron was not so successful as on his first evening's 
venture at the Redoute; but Mr. St. George's 
star remained favourable. Of Essper George, Vi- 
vian had seen little. In passing through the Bazaar 
one morning, which he seldom did, he found to his 
surprise that the former conjuror had doffed his 
quaint costume, and was now attired in the usual 
garb of men of his condition of life. As Essper was 
busily employed at the moment, Vivian did not stop 
to speak to him ; but he received a most respectful 
bow. Once or twice also, he had met Essper in the 
Baron's apartments ; and he seemed to have become 
a very great favourite with the servants of his Ex- 
cellency, and the Chevalier de Boeffleurs, particularly 
with his former butt, Ernstorff, to whom he now 
behaved with the greatest deference. 

I said, that for the first fortnight, the Baron's at- 
tendance on Lady Madeleine was constant. It was 
after this time that his Excellency began to slacken in 
his attentions. He first disappeared from the morn- 



ing walks, and yet he did not ride ; he then ceased 
from joining the party at Lady Madeleine's apart- 
ments in the evening, and never omitted increas- 
ing the circle at the New House for a single night. 
The whole of the fourth week the Baron dined with 
his Imperial Highness. Although the invitation 
had been extended to all the gentlemen from the 
first, it had been agreed that it was not to be accepted, 
in order that the ladies should not find their party 
in the Salon less numerous or less agreeable. The 
Baron was the first to break through a rule which he 
had himself proposed ; and Mr. St. George and the 
Chevalier de Bceffleurs soon followed his example. 

* Mr. Grey,' said Lady Madeleine one evening, 
as she was about to leave the gardens, * we shall be 
happy to see you to-night if you are not engaged 
Mr. Sherborne only will be with us.' 

* I thank your ladyship, but I fear that I am en- 

figed,' said Vivian ; for the receipt of some letters 
om England made him little inclined to enter into 

* Oh, no ! you can't be engaged,' said Violet Fane ; 
* pray come ! pray come ! I know you only want 
to go to that terrible New House ; I wonder what 
St. George can find to amuse him there so keenly ; I 
fear no good : men never congregate together for 
any beneficial purpose. I am sure, with all his gas- 
tronomical affectations, he would not, if all were 
right, prefer the most exquis dinner in the world to 
our society. As it is, we scarcely see him a moment. 
I think, Mr. Grey, that you are the only one who 
has not deserted the Salon. For once, give up the 
New House I'm sure you are not in your usual 
spirits ; you will be more amused, more innocently 
amused at least, even if you go to sleep like Mr. 



Sherborne, than you will with playing at that disgust- 
ing Rouge-et-noir, with a crowd of suspicious-look- 
ing men in mustachios.' 

Vivian smiled at Miss Fane's warmth, and was 
too flattered by the interest which she seemed to 
take in his welfare, to persist in his refusal, although 
she did dilate most provokingly on the absence of her 
cousin. Vivian soon joined them. 

' Lady Madeleine is assisting me in a most im- 
portant work, Mr. Grey. I am making drawings of 
the whole Valley of the Rhine ; I know that you are 
very accurately acquainted with the scenery ; you 
can, perhaps, assist me with your advice about this 
view of Old Hatto's Castle ; I am sure Pm not quite 

Vivian was so completely master of every spot in 
the Rhine-land, that he had no difficulty in suggest- 
ing the necessary alterations. The drawings, unlike 
most young ladies' sketches, were vivid representa- 
tions of the scenery which they professed to depict ; 
and Vivian forgot his melancholy as he attracted the 
attention of the fair artist to points of interest, un- 
known or unnoticed by the Guide-books, and the 

' You must look forward to Italy with great in- 
terest, Miss Fane?' 

* The greatest ! I shall not, however, forget the 
Rhine, even among the Apennines.' 

4 Our intended fellow-travellers, Lord Mounteney 
and his family, are already at Milan,' said Lady 
Madeleine to Vivian ; ' we were to have joined 
their party Lady Mounteney is a Trevor.' 

1 1 have had the pleasure of meeting Lord Mount- 
eney in England, at Sir Berdmore Scrope's : do you 
know him?' 



* Very slightly. The Mounteneys pass the win- 
ter at Rome, where I hope we shall join them. Do 
you know the family intimately?' 

' Mr. Ernest Clay, a nephew of his lordship's, I 
have seen a great deal of; I suppose, according to 
the adopted phraseology, I ought to describe him as 
m^ friend, although I am utterly ignorant where he 
is at present : and, although, unless he is himself ex- 
tremely altered, there scarcely can be two persons 
who now more differ in their pursuits and tempers 
than ourselves.' 

* Ernest Clay ! is he a friend of yours ? He's 
somewhere on the continent now ; I forget where ; 
with some diplomatic appointment I think. Indeed, 
I'm sure of the fact, though I'm perfectly ignorant 
of the place, for it was through Mr. Trevor's interest 
that he obtained it. I see you smile at the idea of 
Ernest Clay drawing up a protocol ! ' 

* Lady Madeleine, you have never read me 
Caroline Mounteney's letter, as you promised,' said 
Miss Fane ; ' I suppose full of raptures " the Alps, 
and Apennines, the Pyrenaean, and the River Po." ' 

4 By no means : the whole letter of four sides, 
double crossed, is filled with an account of the Ballet 
at La Scala ; which, according to Caroline, is a thou- 
sand times more interesting than Mont-Blanc, or the 

' One of the immortal works of Vigano, I sup- 
pose,' said Vivian ; * he has raised the ballet of action 
to an equality with tragedy. I have heard my 
father mention the splendid effect of his Vestale and 
his Otello.' 

' And yet,' said Violet Fane, ( I do not like 
Othello to be profaned. It is not for operas and 
ballets. We require the thrilling words.' 



c It is very true ; yet Pasta's acting in the opera, 
and in an opera acting is only a secondary point, was 
a grand performance ; and I have myself seldom 
witnessed a more masterly effect produced by any 
actor in the world, than I did a fortnight ago, at the 
Opera at Darmstadt, by Wild in Othello.' 

* I think the history of Desdemona is the most 
affecting of all tales,' said Miss Fane. 

{ The violent death of a woman, young, lovely, 
and innocent, is assuredly the most terrible of tra- 
gedies,' observed Vivian ; * and yet, I know not 
why, I agree with you that Desdemona's is the 
most affecting of fates more affecting than those of 
Cordelia, or Juliet, or Ophelia.' 

* It is,' said Lady Madeleine, c because we always 
contrast her misery with her previous happiness. 
The young daughter of Lear is the child of mis- 
fortune : Juliet has the anticipation, not the posses- 
sion of happiness ; and the characters in Hamlet, 
seem so completely the sport of a mysterious, but 
inexorable destiny, that human interest ceases for 
those whose conduct does not appear to be influenced 
by human passions. The exquisite poetry the 
miraculous philosophy of Hamlet, will always make 
us read it with delight, and study it with advantage ; 
but, for Ophelia we do not mourn. We are inte- 
rested in the fortunes of a fictitious character, be- 
cause in witnessing a representation of a scene of 
human life, we form our opinion of the proper course 
to be pursued by the imaginary agents ; and our 
attention is excited, in order to ascertain whether 
their conduct and our opinions agree. But where 
the decree of fate is visibly being fulfilled, or the 
interference of a supernatural power is revealed, we 
know that human faculties can no longer be of avail ; 



that prudence can no longer protect courage no 
longer defend. We witness the tragedy with fear, 
but not with sympathy.' 

4 1 have often asked myself,' said Miss Fane, 
* which is the most terrible destiny for a young 
woman to endure: to meet death after a life of 
trouble, anxiety, and suffering ; or suddenly to be 
cut off in the enjoyment of all things that make life 
delightful ; with a heart too pure to be tainted by 
their possession, and a mind too much cultivated to 
over appreciate their value?' 

* For my part,' said Vivian, * in the last instance, 
I think that death can scarcely be considered an evil. 
The pure spirit would have only to sleep until the 
Great Day ; and then as Dryden has magnificently 
said " wake an angel still." How infinitely is such 
a destiny to be preferred to that long apprenticeship 
of sorrow and suffering, at the end of which men are 
generally as unwilling to die as at the commence- 
ment ! ' 

* And yet,' said Miss Fane, * there is something 
fearful in the idea of sudden death.' 

* Very fearful ! ' muttered Vivian ; ' very fearful 
in some cases ;' for he thought of one whom he had 
sent to his great account before his time. 

* Violet, my dear ! ' said Lady Madeleine, in a very 
agitated voice ; * have you finished your drawing of 
the Bingenloch?' But Miss Fane would not leave 
the subject. 

* Very fearful in all cases, Mr. Grey. How few 
of us are prepared to leave this world without warn- 
ing! And if from youth, or sex, or natural disposi- 
tion, or from the fortunate union of the influence of 
all these three, a few may chance to be better fitted 
for the great change than their companions, still, I 



always think that in those cases in which we view our 
fellow-creatures suddenly departing from this world, 
apparently without a bodily or mental pang, there 
must be a moment of suffering, which none of us 
can understand ; suffering, occasioned by a con- 
sciousness of immediately meeting death in the very 
flush of life, and earthly thoughts a moment of 
suffering, which, from its intense and novel character, 
may appear an eternity of anguish. I shall, perhaps, 
not succeed in conveying my peculiar feeling on this 
subject to you. I have always looked upon such 
an end as the most terrible of dispensations.' 

* I enter into your feelings,' answered Vivian ; 
' although the light in which you view this subject 
is new to me. Terrible, however, as we may univer- 
sally consider the event of a sudden death, I still do 
not believe that a long and painful illness ever ex- 
empts man from the suffering which you mention ; 
but that he always quits life with the same unwilling- 
ness to die.' 

* I cannot agree with you, Mr. Grey, in this 
opinion, which you seem to entertain of the ineffi- 
cacy of " a long apprenticeship of sorrow and suffer- 
ing." From my own experience, I should say that 
it robbed death of all its terrors. Death is most 
dreadful at a distance illness weakens the mind in 
a wise proportion with the body ; and therefore, at 
a certain period, the feelings are too enervated by 
debility, or too blunted by personal suffering, to 
experience that which in health appears the greatest 
trial in our dissolution the parting with our 
friends. In the enjoyment of every pleasure which 
health and affluence can afford, I confess that it ap- 
pears most dreadful to encounter the agonies of dis- 
ease ; and parting with all we love here, to sink into 



the grave, and be forgotten by those of whose every 
thought, when living, we seemed to be the centre. 
But when we are worn out with pain, the selfishness 
of our nature makes us look upon those around us, 
with little more interest than as the ministers of our 
wants. We forget all but the present suffering, and 
only look forward to the future as a release from 
it. If ever you have experienced a long and dan- 
gerous illness, Mr. Grey, I am confident that, on 
reflection, you will agree with me. 5 

4 My dear Violet, 5 said Lady Madeleine ; * I 
thought that Mr. Grey came here to-night to forget 
his melancholy. These surely are subjects which do 
not make men gay.' 

c 1 assure you, Lady Madeleine,' said Vivian, 
c that I take great the greatest interest in this sub- 
ject. I have indured a most dangerous illness, Miss 
Fane, but it was not one of the kind you allude to. 
It was a violent fever, and I was not sensible of my 
disease till its danger was past. I have no very clear 
conception of my state of mind when I recovered ; 
but I think, if I remember right, that I dreaded life 
as much as I feared death.' 

* That was a peculiar case,' said Miss Fane ; c a 
case in which death, from the state of mind, could 
have had no terrors. Of course my argument refers 
to the generality of long and dangerous illnesses, 
when the patient is only too sensible of the daily 
increasing debility. For myself, I distinctly remem- 
ber being reduced to such fearful weakness, that the 
physicians and nurses round my bed believed me 
dying, if not dead ; and from my complete inanition, 
entirely past a knowledge of what was going on 
around me. They were deceived, however, in this. 
I heard them say that I was dying ; more than once 



they thought that all was over ; but it produced no 
emotion in my mind, neither fear, nor sorrow, nor 
hope. I felt my breath fluttering fainter, and fainter. 
I could not move even my finger ; and I thought 
indeed that all would soon be over ; but it brought 
no pang for the sufferers who surrounded my bed, 
no anxiety, or desire for myself. At last I sunk 
into a deep sleep ; and after a length of time I awoke 
with quickened feelings. My natural affections re- 
turned, and then I had a strong longing for life. 
Here I am now, enjoying excellent health, in spite of 
my dear physician's grave looks,' said Miss Fane, 
putting her arm round Lady Madeleine's neck ; 
' and not only health, but every blessing which youth 
can bring me. Nevertheless, dreading death as I do 
now, with the feelings of health and a happy life, I 
sometimes almost regret that I ever awoke from that 
perfect calm of every earthly passion.' 

As Vivian was thinking that Violet Fane was the 
most beautiful creature he had ever beheld, Lady 
Madeleine Trevor bent down, and kissed her fore- 
head. Her ladyship's large blue eyes were full of 
tears. A woman's eye never seems more bright 
than when it glances through a tear as the light of 
a star seems more brilliant when sparkling on a 

* Violet, my dear,' said her ladyship, < let us talk 
no more of death.' 

' Who was talking of death ?' said Mr. Sherborne, 
waking from a refreshing nap ; * I'm sure I wasn't. 
Let me see I forget what my last observation was ; 
I think I was saying, Lady Madeleine, that a little 
music would refresh us all. Violet, my dear, will 
you play me one of my favourites?' 

' What shall it be, dear Sir ? I really think I may 
? A 369 


sing to-night. What think you, Lady Madeleine? 
I have been silent a fortnight.' So saying, Miss 
Fane sat down to the piano. 

Mr. Sherborne's favourite ensued. It was a 
lively air, calculated to drive away all melancholy 
feelings, and cherishing those bright sunny views of 
human life which the excellent old man had invari- 
ably professed. But Rossini's Muse did not smile 
to-night upon her who invoked its gay spirit ; and 
ere Lady Madeleine could interfere, Violet Fane had 
found more congenial emotions in one of Weber's 
prophetic symphonies. 

Oh! Music! miraculous art, that makes the poet's 
skill a jest ; revealing to the soul inexpressible feel- 
ings, by the aid of inexplicable sounds! A blast of 
thy trumpet, and millions rush forward to die : a 
peal of thy organ, and uncounted nations sink down 
to pray. Mighty is thy three-fold power! 

First, thou canst call up all elemental sounds, and 
scenes, and subjects, with the defmiteness of reality. 
Strike the lyre! Lo! the voice of the winds the 
flash of the lightning the swell of the wave the 
solitude of the valley! 

Then thou canst speak to the secrets of a man's 
heart as- if by inspiration. Strike the lyre! Lo! 
our early love our treasured hate our withered 
joy our flattering hope! 

And, lastly, by thy mysterious melodies, thou 
canst recall man from all thought of this world and 
of himself bringing back to his soul's memory, 
dark but delightful recollections of the glorious heri- 
tage which he had lost, but which he may win again. 
Strike the lyre! Lo! Paradise, with its palaces of 
inconceivable splendor, and its gates of unimagin- 
able glory! 


When Vivian left the apartment of Lady Made- 
leine, he felt no inclination to sleep ; and instead of 
retiring to rest, he bent his steps towards the gardens. 
It was a rich summer night ; the air, recovered from 
the sun's scorching rays, was cool not chilling. 
The moon was still behind the mountains ; but the 
dark blue heavens were studded with innumerable 
stars, whose tremulous light quivered on the face of 
the river. All human sounds had ceased to agitate ; 


and the note of the nightingale, and the rush of the 
waters, banished monotony without disturbing re- 
flection. But not for reflection had Vivian Grey 
deserted his chamber : his heart was full but of in- 
definable sensations ; and forgetting the world in the 
intenseness of his emotions, he felt too much to 

How long he had been pacing by the side of the 
river he knew not, when he was awakened from his 
reverie by the sound of voices. He looked up, and 
saw lights moving at a distance. The party at the 
New House had just broke up. He stopped be- 
neath a branching elm-tree for a moment, that the 
sound of his steps might not attract their attention ; 
and at this very instant the garden gate opened, and 
closed with great violence. The figure of a man 
approached. As he passed Vivian, the moon rose up 
from above the brow of the mountain, and lit up 
the countenance of the Baron. Despair was stamped 
on his distracted features. 


WHEN Vivian awoke in the morning, he found that 
the intenseness of his emotions had subsided ; and 
that his sensations were not quite so indefinite as on 



the preceding night : he found himself in love 
with whom, however, was perhaps still doubtful. 
The image of Violet Fane had made his dreams de- 
licious; but it must be confessed, that the eidolon 
sometimes smiled with the features of Lady Made- 
leine Trevor : but that he looked on the world with 
new feelings, and a changed spirit, with hope, and 
almost with joy, was certain. The sweet summer 
morning had succeeded to the soft summer night. 
The sun illumined as yet only the tops of the western 
mountains ; and the morning breeze, unheated by 
his beams, told that it was June by the odours which 
it wafted around. At such a moment the sense of 
existence alone is happiness ; but to Vivian it seemed 
that the sun was about to light up a happier world, 
and that the sweet wind blew from Paradise. 

Young love ! young Love, * thy birth was of the 
womb of morning dew, and thy conception of the 
joyous prime ! ' so Spenser sings ; and there are 
few, perhaps, who, on this subject, have not scribbled 
some stray stanzas in their time, if not as sweet, it 
may be more sincere. They will understand feel- 
ings which none can describe. How miraculous is 
that power, which, in an instant, can give hope to 
the desperate, and joy to the forlorn ; which, with- 
out an argument, can vanquish all philosophy ; and 
without a gibe silence all wit ; which turns the light- 
hearted serious, while it makes the sorrowful smile ; 
which is braver than courage, and yet more cautious 
than fear ; which can make the fool outwit wisdom, 
and wisdom envy the fool! 

It was in one of those sweet bowers, with which, 
as we have before mentioned, the gardens of Ems 
wisely abound, that Vivian Grey had spent more 
than three hours, unconscious of the passing of a 



moment. A rustling among the trees first attracted 
his attention ; and on looking quickly up the wind- 
ing walk, he thought he saw Essper George vanish 
in the shrubbery. Was he watched? But he soon 
forgot his slight anger in another fit of abstraction, 
from which he was wakened, as he imagined by the 
same sound. * This time, I'll catch you,' thought 
Vivian. He jumped suddenly up, and nearly 
knocked down Lady Madeleine Trevor, who had 
entered the arbour. 

4 1 hope I've not disturbed you, Mr. Grey,' said 
her Ladyship, who saw that he was confused ; ' I am 
in want of an escort, and I have come to reclaim a 
truant knight. You forget that I had your pledge 
yesterday, to accompany me to the New Spring.' 

Vivian made a violent struggle to recover himself, 
and began to talk a quantity of nonsense to her lady- 
ship, by way of apology for his negligence, and 
thanks for her kindness ; Lady Madeleine listened, 
with her usual gentle smile, to a long and muttered 
discourse, in which the words c Essper George, Miss 
Fane, and fine morning,' were alone intelligible. 

* Shall we have the pleasure of Miss Fane and Mr. 
Sherborne's company in our walk to-day?' asked 

* No ! they are not going with us,' said Lady 
Madeleine. You will join our party at the Arch- 
duke's to-night, I hope, Mr. Grey,' continued her 

'Yes I don't know: that is, are you going, 

Lady Madeleine?' 

' Why, my dear Sir, isn't this the fete night ?' 

4 Ah ! ah ! I understand I remember it will 

give me the greatest pleasure to join the party at 

your Ladyship's rooms.' 



Lady Madeleine looked very earnestly at her com- 
panion, and then talked about the weather, and the 
beauty of summer, and the singing of birds, and a 
thousand other little topics, by which she soon re- 
stored him to his usual state of mind. In a quarter 
of an hour Vivian had quite recovered his senses ; 
and only regretted the part which he necessarily took 
in the conversation, because it prevented him from 
listening to the soft tones of her ladyship's voice, 
who he thought to-day looked a thousand times 
more beautiful than ever. He began also to think, 
that he should like to walk to the New Spring alone 
with her every morning of his life. 

Vivian had been so occupied by his own feelings, 
that he and his companion had completed nearly half 
their walk, before it struck him that something was 
dwelling on the mind of Lady Madeleine. In the 
midst of the gayest conversation, her features more 
than once appeared to be in little accordance with the 
subject of discussion ; and her voice often broke off 
abruptly at the commencement of a sentence some 
sentence which it seemed she had not courage to 

* I. 

nnisn. ,, ; ..' ; 

' Mr. Grey,' said her ladyship, suddenly ; ' I can- 
not conceal any longer, that I am thinking of a very 
different subject to the Archduke's ball. As you 
form part of my thoughts at this moment, I shall not 
hesitate to disburthen my mind to you ; although, 
perhaps, I run the risk of being considered at the 
same time both impertinent and officious. Under- 
stand me, however, distinctly, that whatever I may 
say, you are not, for a moment, to believe that I am 
ostentatiously presuming to give you advice. There 
are many points, however, to which the hint or inti- 
mation of a friend may attract our attention with 



advantage ; and although our conversation to-day 
may not be productive of any to you, believe me 
that I should very much grieve, if my gentle sug- 
gestion were construed into an unwarrantable inter- 

' Any thing that Lady Madeleine Trevor can do, 
surely cannot be construed by any one as unwarrant- 
able any thing that Lady Madeleine Trevor can 
be kind enough to address to me, must always be 
received with the most respectful, the most grateful 

' 1 wish not to keep you in suspense, Mr. Grey. 
It is of the mode of life which I see my brother, 
which I see you pursuing here, that I wish to speak,' 
said her ladyship, with an agitated voice. ' May I 
may I really speak with freedom?' 

* Any thing every thing, with the most perfect 
unreserve and confidence,' answered Vivian. 

' You are aware, Mr. Grey, that Ems is not the 
first place at which I have met Baron von Konig- 
stein ?' 

4 1 am not ignorant that his Excellency has been in 

' It cannot have escaped you, Mr. Grey, that I 
acknowledged his acquaintance with reluctance.' 

' I should judge, with the greatest reluctance, Lady 

' And yet it was with still more reluctance, Mr. 
Grey, that I prevailed upon myself to believe you 
were his friend. I experienced the greatest delight, 
when you told me how short and accidental had been 
your acquaintance. I have experienced the greatest 
pain in witnessing to what that acquaintance has led ; 
and it is with extreme sorrow, for my own weakness, 
in not having had courage to speak to you before, 




and with a hope of yet benefiting you, that I have 
been induced to speak to you now.' 

4 Lady Madeleine, I trust there is no cause either 
for your sorrow or your fear ; but much, much cause 
for my gratitude. Do not fear to be explicit.' 

* Now that I have prevailed upon myself to speak, 
Mr. Grey, and have experienced from you the recep- 
tion that I gave you credit for ; do not fear that 
there will be any want of openness on my part. I 
have observed the constant attendance of yourself, 
and my brother, at the New House with the greatest 
anxiety. I have seen too much of the world, not to 
be perfectly aware of the danger the terrific danger, 
which young men, and young men of honour, must 
always experience at such places. Alas ! I have seen 
too much of Baron von Konigstein, not to know that 
at such places especially, his acquaintance is fatal. 
The evident depression of your spirits yesterday, 
determined me on a step which I have for the last 
few days been considering. Your abstraction this 
morning frightened me. I can learn nothing from 
my brother. I fear that I am even now too late ; 
but I trust, that whatever may be your situation, you 
will remember, Mr. Grey, that you have friends ; 
that you will decide on nothing rash.' 

' Lady Madeleine,' said Vivian, < I have too much 
respect for your feelings to stop even one moment to 
express the gratitude the pride the honourable 
pride, which your generous conduct allows me to 
feel. This moment repays me for a year of agony. 
I affect not to misunderstand one syllable of your 
meaning. My opinion, my detestation of the gam- 
ing-table has always, and must always, be the same. 
I do assure you this, and all things, upon my honour. 
Far from being involved, my cheek burns while I 


confess, that I am master of a considerable sum a 
most considerable sum, acquired by this unhallowed 
practice. But for this I am scarcely to be blamed. 
You are yourself aware of the singular fortune which 
awaited my first evening at Ems ; that fortune was 
continued at the New House, the very first day 
I dined with his Highness, and when, unexpectedly, 
I was forced to play ; that fatal fortune has rendered 
my attendance at the New House absolutely neces- 
sary. I found that it was impossible to keep away, 
without subjecting myself to the most painful ob- 
servations. I need scarcely say now, that my depres- 
sion of yesterday was occasioned by the receipt of 
letters from England ; and as to my abstraction this 
morning, believe me, Lady Madeleine, it was not a 
state of mind which grew out of any disgust to the 
world, or its inhabitants. I am ashamed of having 
spoken so much about myself, and so little about 
those for whom you are more interested. As far as 
I can judge, you have no cause, at present, for any 
serious uneasiness with regard to Mr. St. George. 
You may, perhaps, have observed that we are not 
very intimate, and therefore I cannot speak with any 
precision as to the state of his fortunes ; but I have 
reason to believe that they are by no means unfavour- 
able. And now for the Baron, Lady Madeleine.' 

* Yes, yes!' 

' I hardly know what I am to infer from your 
observations respecting him. I certainly should in- 
fer something extremely bad, were not I conscious, 
that, after the experience of five weks, I, for one, 
have nothing to complain of him. The Baron, cer- 
tainly, is fond of play plays high, indeed. He has 
not had equal fortune at the New House as at the 
Redoute ; at least I imagine so, for he has given me 



no cause to believe, in any way, that he is a loser ; 
and I need not tell Lady Madeleine Trevor, that at 
the table of an Archduke, losses are instantly paid.' 

' Now that I know the truth the joyful truth, 
Mr. Grey,' said her ladyship, with great earnestness 
and animation ; ' I feel quite ashamed of my bold- 
ness ; must I say my suspicions?' But if you could 
only understand the relief, the ease, the happiness, 
I feel at this moment, I am sure you would not won- 
der that I prevailed upon myself to speak to you. 
It may still be in my power, however, to prevent 
evil.' yfcx 

' Yes yes, certainly ! After what has passed, I 
would, without any fear of my motives being mis- 
interpreted, submit to your Ladyship, that the wisest 
course now, would be to speak to me frankly respect- 
ing Von Konigstein ; and if you are aware of any- 
thing which has passed in the circles in England, of 
a nature which may render it more prudent for ' 

' Oh ! stop, stop ! ' said Lady Madeleine, in the 
greatest agitation. Vivian was silent, and many 
minutes elapsed before his companion again spoke. 
When she did, her eyes were fixed on the ground, 
and her tones were low ; but her voice was calm, 
and steady. It was evident that she had mastered 
her emotions. 

' I am going to accept, Mr. Grey, the confidence 
which you have proffered me. I feel, I am con- 
vinced, that it is due to you now, that I should say 
all ; but I do not affect to conceal that I speak, even 
now, with reluctance an effort, and it will soon be 
over. It is for the best.' Lady Madeleine paused 
one moment, and then resumed with a firm voice : 

' Upwards of six years, Mr. Grey, have now 
passed since Baron von Konigstein was appointed 



Minister to London, from the Court of . 

Although apparently young for such an impor- 
tant mission, he had already eminently distin- 
guished himself as a diplomatist ; and with all 
the advantages of brilliant talents, various ac- 
complishments, rank, reputation, person, and a 
fascinating address, I need not tell you, that 
he immediately became of consideration, even 
in the highest circles. Mr Trevor I was then 
just married was at this period high in office, 
and was constantly in personal communication 
with the Baron. They became intimate, and his 
Excellency our constant guest. The Baron had the 
reputation of being a man of pleasure. Few men 
ever existed, for whose indiscretions there could be 
a greater excuse ; nor had any thing ever transpired 
which could induce us to believe, that Baron von 
Konigstein could be guilty of any thing, but an 
indiscretion. At this period a relation, and former 
ward of Mr. Trevor's, a young man of considerable 
fortune, and one whom we all most fondly loved, 
resided in our family. Trevor, and myself, con- 
sidered him as our brother. With this individual 
Baron von Konigstein formed a strong friendship ; 
they were seldom apart. Our relation was not ex- 
empted from the failings of all young men. He led a 
very dissipated, an alarmingly dissipated life ; but 
he was very young ; and, as unlike most relations, 
we never allowed any conduct on his part, for an 
instant to banish him from our society ; we trusted 
that the contrast which his own family afforded to 
his usual companions, would in time render his tastes 
more refined, and his habits less irregular. We had 
now known Baron von Konigstein for upwards of a 
year and a half, most intimately. Nothing had trans- 



pired during this period to induce Mr. Trevor to 
alter the opinion which he had entertained of him 
from the first ; he believed him to be a man of the 
purest honour, and, in spite of a few imprudencies, 
of the correctest principles. Whatever might have 
been my own opinion of his Excellency at this period, 
I had no reason to doubt the natural goodness of his 
disposition ; and though I could not hope that he 
was one who would assist us in our plans for the 
reformation of Augustus, I still rejoiced to observe, 
that in the Baron he would at least find a companion 
very different from the unprincipled and selfish be- 
ings by whom he was too often surrounded. Some- 
thing occurred at this time, Mr. Grey, which it is 
necessary for me only to allude to ; but which placed 
Baron von Konigstein, according to his own declara- 
tion, under the most lasting obligations to myself. 
In the warmth of his heart he asked if there was any 
real, and important service which he could do me. 
I took advantage of the moment to speak to him 
about our young friend ; I detailed to him all our 
anxieties ; he anticipated all my wishes, and pro- 
mised to watch over him ; to be his guardian ; his 
friend his real friend. Mr. Grey,' continued her 
ladyship, * I struggle to restrain my feelings ; but 
the recollections of this period of my life are so pain- 
ful, that for a moment I must stop to recover my- 

For a few minutes they walked on in silence ; 
Vivian did not speak, his heart was too full ; and 
when her ladyship resumed her tale, he, uncon- 
sciously, pressed her arm. 

* Mr. Grey, I study to be brief. About three 
months after the Baron had given me the pledge 
which I mentioned, Mr. Trevor was called up at an 



early hour one morning with the alarming in- 
telligence, that his late ward was supposed to 
be at the point of death at a neighbouring 
hotel. He instantly accompanied the messenger, 
and on the way the fatal truth was broken to 
him our young friend had committed suicide! 
He had been playing all night with one whom 
I cannot now name.' Here Lady Madeleine's 
voice died away, but with a struggle she again spoke 

f I mean, Mr. Grey with the Baron some for- 
eigners also, and an Englishman all intimate friends 
of Von Konigstein, and scarcely known to Captain 

, I mean the deceased. Our friend had been 

the only sufferer; he had lost his whole fortune 
and more than his fortune : and, with a heart full of 
despair and remorse, had, with his own hand, ter- 
minated his unhappy life. The whole circumstances 
were so suspicious, that public attention was keenly 
attracted, and Mr. Trevor spared no exertion to 
bring the offenders to punishment. The Baron had 
the hardihood to call upon us the next day ; admit- 
tance was, of course, refused. He wrote the most 
violent letters, protesting by all that was sacred that 
he was innocent ; that he was asleep during most of 
the night, and accusing the others who were present 
of a conspiracy. The unhappy business now attrac- 
ted universal attention. Its consequence on me was 
an alarming illness of a most unfortunate kind ; I 
was therefore prevented from interfering, or, indeed, 
knowing any thing that took place; but Trevor 
informed me that the Baron was involved in a cor- 
respondence in the public prints; that the accused 
parties recriminated, and that finally he was con- 
vinced that Von Konigstein, if there were any differ- 



ence, was, if possible, the most guilty. However 
this might be, he soon obtained his recall from his 
own government. He wrote to myself, and to 
Trevor before he left England ; but I was too ill 
to hear of his letters, until Mr. Trevor informed me 
that he had returned them unopened. And now, 
Mr. Grey, I am determined to give utterance to that 
which as yet has always died upon my lips the vic- 
tim the unhappy victim was the brother of Miss 

< Oh, God!' 

* And Mr. St. George,' continued Vivian, ' Mr. 
St. George knowing all this, which surely he must 
have done ; how came he to tolerate, for an instant, 
the advances of such a man ?' 

4 My brother,' said Lady Madeleine, ' is a very 
good, a very excellent young man, with a kind heart 
and warm feelings ; but my brother has not much 
knowledge of the world, and he is too honourable 
himself ever to believe that what he calls a gentle- 
man can be dishonest. My brother was not in Eng- 
land when the unhappy event took place, and of 
course the various circumstances have not made the 
same impression upon him, as upon us. He has 
heard of the affair only from me ; and young men, 
Mr. Grey, young men too often imagine that women 
are apt to exaggerate in matters of this nature, which, 
of course, few of us can understand. Von Konig- 
stein had not the good feeling, or perhaps had not 
the power, connected as he was with the Archduke, 
to affect ignorance of our former acquaintance, or to 
avoid a second one. I was obliged formally to intro- 
duce him to my brother. I was quite perplexed 
how to act. I thought of writing to Von Konig- 
stein the next morning, a letter a calm letter ; im- 



pressing upon him, without the expression of any 
hostile feeling, the utter impossibility of the acquaint- 
ance being renewed : but this proceeding involved a 
thousand difficulties. How was a man of his dis- 
tinction a man, who not only from his rank, but 
from his disposition, is always a remarkable, and a 
remarked character, wherever he may be, how 
could he account to the Archduke, and to his numer- 
ous friends, for his not associating with a party with 
whom he was perpetually in contact. Explanations 
painful explanations, and worse, much worse than 
these must have been the consequence. I could 
hardly expect him to leave Ems ; it was, perhaps, 
out of his power : and for Miss Fane to leave Ems 
at this moment, was most strenuously prohibited by 
our physician. While I was doubtful and deliberat- 
ing, the conduct of Von Konigstein himself pre- 
vented me from taking any step whatever. Feeling 
all the awkwardness of his situation, he seized, with 
eagerness, the opportunity of becoming intimate 
with a member of the family whom he had not before 
known. His amusing conversation, and insinuating 
address, immediately enlisted the feelings of my 
brother in his favour. You know yourself that the 
very morning after their introduction they were rid- 
ing together. As they became more intimate, the 
Baron boldly spoke to St. George in confidence of 
his acquaintance with us in England, and of the un- 
happy circumstances which led to its termination. 
St. George was deceived by this seeming courage and 
candour. He has become the Baron's friend, and 
has adopted his version of the unhappy story ; and 
as the Baron has had too much delicacy to allude to 
ihe affair in a defence of himself to me, he calculated 
that the representations of St. George, who he was 

3 8 3 


conscious, would not preserve the confidence which 
Von Konigstein has always intended him to betray, 
would assist in producing in my mind an impression 
in his favour. The Neapolitan story which he told 
the other day at dinner, was of himself ; relating it, 
as he might with truth, of a gentleman of rank, who 
was obliged to leave England, he blinded all present, 
except Miss Fane and myself. I confess to you, 
Mr. Grey, that though I have not for a moment 
doubted the guilt of the Baron, still I was weak 
enough to consider that his desire to become recon- 
ciled to me was at least an evidence of a repentant 
heart ; and the Neapolitan story deceived me. Wo- 
men are so easily to be deceived. We always hail 
with such credulous pleasure the prospect of the 
amendment of a fellow creature. Actuated by these 
feelings, and acting as I thought wisest under exist- 
ing circumstances, I ceased to discourage the atten- 
tions of the Baron to myself and my friends. Your 
acquaintance, which we all desired to cultivate, was 
another reason for enduring his presence. His sub- 
sequent conduct has undeceived me : I am convinced 
now, not only of his former guilt, but also that he 
is not changed ; and that with his accustomed talent, 
he has been acting a part which for some reason or 
other he has no longer any object in maintaining. 
Both Mr. Sherborne and myself have remonstrated 
with my brother ; but the only consequence of our 
interference has been, that he has quarrelled vdth his 
uncle, and treated both my own and Miss Fane's 
interposition with indifference or irritability.' 

< And Miss Fane,' said Vivian, * she must know 

* She knows nothing in detail ; she Was so young 
at the time, that we had no difficulty in keeping the 



particular circumstances of her brother's death, and 
the sensation which it excited, a secret from her. 
As she grew up, I have thought it proper that the 
mode of his death should no longer be concealed 
from her ; and she has learnt from some incautious 
observations of St. George's, enough to make her 
look upon the Baron with horror. It is for Violet,' 
continued Lady Madeleine, ' that I have the severest 
apprehensions. For the last fortnight her anxiety 
for her cousin has produced an excitation of mind, 
which I look upon with more dread than any thing 
that can happen to her. She has intreated both Mr. 
Sherborne and myself, to speak to St. George, and 
also to you, Mr. Grey ; and, since our unsuccessful 
interference with my brother, we have been obliged 
to have recourse to deceit to calm her mind, and 
banish her apprehensions. Mr. Sherborne has per- 
suaded her, that, at the New House, play is seldom 
pursued ; and when pursued, that the limit is very 
moderate. The last few days she has become more 
easy and serene. She accompanies us to-night ; the 
weather is so beautiful that the night air is scarcely 
to be feared ; and a gay scene will, I am convinced, 
have a favourable influence upon her spirits. Your 
depression last night did not, however, escape her 
notice. Once more let me say how I rejoice at hear- 
ing what you have told me. I have such confidence 
in your honour, Mr. Grey, that I unhesitatingly be- 
lieve all that you have said. I have such confidence 
in your sense and courage, Mr. Grey, that I have 
now no apprehensions for the future. For God's 
sake, watch St. George. I have no fear for your- 

Here they had reached home : Vivian parted with 
her ladyship at the door of her apartments, and 
2B 385 


pressed her hand as he refused to come in. He 
hastened to the solitude of his own chamber. His 
whole frame was in a tumult ; he paced up and down 
his room with wild steps ; he pressed his hand to his 
eyes to banish the disturbing light ; and tried to call 
up the image of her who was lately speaking of her, 
for whom alone he now felt that he must live. But 
what chance had he of ever gaining this glorious 
creature? what right? what claims? His brow 
alternately burnt with maddening despair, and excit- 
ing hope. How he cursed himself for his foul 
sacrifice of his talents! those talents, the proper 
exercise, the wise administration of which, might 
have placed happiness in his power, the enjoyment 
of a state of feeling, whose existence he had once 
ridiculed, because his imperfect moral sense was in- 
capable of comprehending it, once, and once only, 
it darted across his mind, that feelings of mere friend- 
ship could not have dictated this confidence, and 
occasioned this anxiety on her part ; but the soft 
thought dwelt on his soul only for an instant as 
the shadow of a nightingale flits over the moonlit 


THE company at the Archduke's fete was most select ; 
that is to say, it consisted of every single person who 
was then at the Baths : those who had been presented 
to his Highness, having the privilege of introducing 
any number of their friends ; and those who had no 
friend to introduce them, purchasing tickets at an 
enormous price from Cracowsky the wily Polish 
Intendant. The entertainment was most imperial ; 
no expense, and no exertion were spared to make the 
hired lodging-house look like an hereditary palace ; 



and for a week previous to the great evening, the 
whole of the neighbouring town of Wisbaden, the 
little capital of the duchy, had been put under contri- 
bution. What a harvest for Cracowsky! What a 
commission from the restaurateur for supplying the 
refreshments! What a per-centage on hired mirrors 
and dingy hangings! 

The Archduke, covered with orders, received 
every one with the greatest condescension, and made 
to each of his guests a most flattering speech. His 
suite, in new uniforms, simultaneously bowed 
directly the flattering speech was finished. 

* Madame von Furstenburg, I feel the greatest 
pleasure in seeing you. My greatest pleasure is to 
be surrounded by my friends. Madame von Fur- 
stenburg, I trust that your amiable and delightful 
family are quite well. [The party passed on.] 
CravatischefF ! ' continued his Highness, inclining his 
head round to one of his aid-de-camps ; * Cravatis- 
cheff! a very fine woman is Madame von Fursten- 
burg. There are few women whom I more admire 
than Madame von Furstenburg. 1 

* Prince Salvinski, I feel the greatest pleasure in 
seeing you. My greatest pleasure is to be sur- 
rounded by my friends. Poland honours no one more 
than Prince Salvinski. Cravatischeff ! a remarkable 
bore is Prince Salvinski. There are few men of 
whom I have a greater terror than Prince Salvinski.' 

' Baron von Konigstein, I feel the greatest plea- 
sure in seeing you. My greatest pleasure is to be 
surrounded by my friends. Baron von Konigstein, 
I have not yet forgot the story of the fair Venetian. 
CravatischefF! an uncommonly pleasant fellow is 
Baron von Konigstein. There are few men whose 
company I more enjoy than Baron von Konigstein's.' 



4 Count von Altenburgh, I feel the greatest plea- 
sure in seeing you. My greatest pleasure is to be 
surrounded by my friends. You will not forget to 
give me your opinion of my Austrian troop. Cra- 
vatischeff! a very good billiard player is Count 
von Altenburgh. There are few men whose play 
I'd sooner bet upon than Count von Alten- 
burgh' s.' 

< Lady Madeleine Trevor, I feel the greatest plea- 
sure in seeing you. My greatest pleasure is to be 
surrounded by my friends. Miss Fane, your ser- 
vant Mr. Sherborne Mr. St. George Mr. Grey. 
Cravatischeff ! a most splendid woman is Lady 
Madeleine Trevor. There is no woman whom I 
more admire than Lady Madeleine Trevor ; and Cra- 
vatischeff! Miss Fane, too! a remarkably fine girl 
is Miss Fane.' 

The great saloon of the New House afforded ex- 
cellent accommodation for the dancers. It opened 
on the gardens, which, though not very large, were 
tastefully laid out ; and were this evening brilliantly 
illuminated with coloured lamps. In the smaller 
saloon, the Austrian troop amused those who were 
not fascinated by waltz or quadrille, with acting pro- 
verbes : the regular dramatic performance was 
thought too heavy a business for the evening. There 
was sufficient amusement for all ; and those who did 
not dance, and to whom proverbes were no novelty, 
walked and talked, stared at others, and were them- 
selves stared at ; and this perhaps was the greatest 
amusement of all. Baron von Konigstein did cer- 
tainly to-night look neither like an unsuccessful 
gamester, nor a designing villain. Among many 
who were really amusing, he was the most so ; and 
apparently without the least consciousness of it, 



attracted the admiration of all. To the Trevor party 
he had attached himself immediately, and was con- 
stantly at her ladyship's side, introducing to her, in 
the course of the evening, his own and Mr. St. 
George's particular friends Mr. and Mrs. Fitzloom. 
Among many smiling faces, Vivian Grey's was 
clouded ; the presence of the Baron annoyed him. 
When they first met, he was conscious that he was 
stiff and cool extraordinarily cool. One moment's 
reflection convinced him of the folly of his conduct, 
and he made a struggle to be very civil extraordin- 
arily civil. In five minutes time he had involun- 
tarily insulted the Baron, who stared at his friend, 
and evidently did not comprehend him. 

* Grey,' said his Excellency, very quietly, * you're 
not in a good humour to-night. What's the matter ? 
This is not at all a temper to come to a fete in. 
What! won't Miss Fane dance with you?' asked 
the Baron, with an arch smile. 

{ I wonder what can induce your Excellency to 
talk such nonsense!' 

4 Your Excellency! by Jove! that's good, Ex- 
cellency ! why, what the deuce is the matter with the 
man. It is Miss Fane then eh?' 

' Baron von Konigstein I wish you to under- 
stand ' 

* My dear fellow, I never could understand any 
thing. I think you have insulted me in a most dis- 
graceful manner, and I positively must call you out, 
unless you promise to dine at my rooms with me to- 
morrow, to meet de Boeffleurs.' 

' I cannot.' 

* Why not ? you've no engagement with Lady 
Madeleine I know, for St. George has agreed to 



1 Yes?' 

' De Bceffleurs leaves Ems next week. It is 
sooner than he expected, and I wish to have a quiet 
evening together before he goes. I should be very 
vexed if you were not there. We've scarcely been 
enough together lately. What with the New House 
in the evening, and riding parties in the morning, 
and those Fitzloom girls, with whom St. George is 
playing a most foolish game he'll be taken in now, 
if he's not on his guard we really never meet, at 
least not in a quiet friendly way ; and so now, will 
you come?' 

' St. George is positively coming?' 

1 Oh yes ? positively ; don't be afraid of his 
gaining ground on the little Violet in your ab- 

' Well, then, my dear Von Konigstein, I will 

' Well, that's yourself again. It made me quite 
unhappy, to see you look so sour and melancholy ; 
one would have thought that I was some troublesome 
bore, Prince Salvinski at least, by the way you spoke 
to me. Well, mind you come it's a promise : 
good. I must go and say just one word to the lovely 
little Saxon, and by the bye, Grey, one word before 
I'm off. List to a friend, you're on the wrong scent 
about Miss Fane ; St. George, I think, has no chance 
there, and now no wish to succeed. The game's 
your own, if you like ; trust my word, she's an 
angel. The good powers prosper you!' so saying, 
the Baron ran off. 

Mr. St. George had danced with Miss Fane the 
only quadrille in which Lady Madeleine allowed her 
to join. He was now waltzing with Aurelia Fitz- 
loom, and was at the head of a band of adventurous 



votaries of Terpsichore ; who, wearied with the 
common-place convenience of a saloon, had ventured 
to invoke the Muse on the lawn. 

' A most interesting sight, Lady Madeleine Tre- 
vor!' said Mr. Fitzloom, as he offered his arm to 
her ladyship, and advised their instant presence as 
patrons of the ' Fete du Village? for such Baron 
Von Konigstein had most happily termed it. c A 
delightful man that Baron Von Konigstein, and says 
such delightful things! Fete du Village! how very 
good ! ' 

4 That is Miss Fitzloom then, whom my brother 
is waltzing with ?' asked Lady Madeleine in her usual 
kind tone. 

' Not exactly, my Lady Madeleine,' said Mr. 
Fitzloom, * not exactly Miss Fitzloom, rather Miss 
Aurelia Fitzloom, my third daughter; our third 
eldest, as Mrs. Fitzloom sometimes says ; for really 
it is necessary to distinguish, with such a family as 
ours, you know, my Lady Madeleine!' 

' But don't you think, Mr. Fitzloom, that your 
third daughter is a sufficiently definite description?' 
asked her ladyship. 

* Why you know, my Lady Madeleine, there 
might be a mistake. There's the third youngest! 
and if one say the third merely, why, as Mrs. Fitz- 
loom sometimes says, the question is, which is 

' That view of the case, I confess, did not strike 
me before.' 

* Mr. Grey,' said Miss Fane, for she was now 
leaning upon his arm : ' have you any objection to 
walk up and down the terrace ? the evening is delici- 
ously soft, but even with the protection of a Cache- 
mere I scarcely dare venture to stand still. Lady 



Madeleine seems very much engaged at present. 
What amusing people these Fitzlooms are!' 

4 Mrs. Fitzloom ; I've not heard her voice yet. 5 

< No ; Mrs. Fitzloom does not talk. St. George 
says she makes it a rule never to speak in the pres- 
ence of a stranger. She deals plenteously, however, 
at home in domestic apothegms. If you could but 
hear him imitating them all! Whenever she does 
speak, she finishes all her sentences by confessing that 
she is conscious of her own deficiencies ; but that 
she has taken care to give her daughters the very 
best education. They are what St. George calls fine 
dashing girls,, and Pm very glad he's made friends 
with them ; for, after all, he must find it rather dull 
here. By the bye, Mr. Grey, I'm afraid that you can't 
find this evening very amusing ; the absence of a 
favourite pursuit always makes a sensible void ; and 
these walls must remind you of more piquant plea- 
sures than waltzing with fine London ladies, or pro- 
menading up a dull terrace with an invalid.' 

* Miss Fane, I fear that you are a bitter satirist ; 
but I assure you that you are quite misinformed 
as to the mode in which I generally pass my even- 

'I hope I am, Mr. Grey!' said Miss Fane, in 
rather a serious tone ; * I wish I could also be mis- 
taken in my suspicions of the mode in which St. 
George spends his time. He's sadly changed* For 
the first month that we were here, he seemed to pre- 
fer nothing in the world to our society, and now 

I was nearly saying that we had not seen him for 
one single evening these three weeks. I cannot 
understand what you find at this house of such ab- 
sorbing interest. Although I know you think I am 
much mistaken in my suspicions, still I feel very 



anxious, very anxious indeed. I spoke to St. George 
to-day, but he scarcely answered me ; or said that, 
which it was a pleasure for me to forget.' 

1 Mr. St. George should feel highly gratified in 
having excited such an interest in the mind of 
Miss Fane.' 

{ He cannot he should not feel more gratified 
than all who are my friends ; for all who are such, I 
must ever experience the liveliest interest.' 

4 How happy must those be who feel that they 
have a right to count Miss Fane among their 
friends ! ' 

' I have the pleasure then, I assure you, of making 
many happy, and among them Mr. Grey.' 

Vivian was surprised that he did not utter some 
usual complimentary answer ; but he knew not why, 
the words stuck in his throat ; and instead of speak- 
ing, he was thinking of what had been spoken. In 
a second he had mentally repeated Miss Fane's 
answer a thousand times it rang in his ears it 
thrilled his blood. In another moment he was 
ashamed of being such a fool. 

* How brilliant are these gardens ! ' said Vivian, 
looking at the sky. 

* Very brilliant ! ' said Violet Fane, looking on the 
ground. Conversation seemed nearly extinct, and 
yet neither offered to turn back. 

* Good heavens ! you are ill, Miss Fane,' suddenly 
exclaimed Vivian, when, on accidentally turning to 
his companion, he found she was in tears. < Shall 
we go back, or will you wait here ? Can I fetch any- 
thing ? I fear you are very ill ! ' 

* No, no ! not very ill, but very foolish ; let us 
walk on, Mr. Grey, walk on walk on.' Here 
Vivian thought that she was going into hysterics ; 



but heaving a deep sigh, she seemed suddenly to 

4 1 am ashamed, Mr. Grey, of myself this 
trouble, this foolishness what can you think? but 
I am so agitated, so nervous I hope you'll forget 
1 hope .' 

* Perhaps the air has suddenly affected you had 
we not better go in? Pray, pray compose yourself. 
I trust that nothing I have said that nothing has 
happened that no one has dared to say, or do, any 
thing to offend you to annoy you? Speak, pray 
speak, Miss Fane dear Miss Fane, the the ' 

the words died on Vivian's lips, yet a power he 

could not withstand urged him to speak ' the the 
the Baron?' 

' Oh ! ' almost shrieked Miss Fane * No, no, stop 
one second let me compose myself an effort, and 
I must be well nothing, nothing has happened, and 
no one has done or said any thing ; but it is of some- 
thing that should be said of something that should 
be done, that I was thinking, and it overcame me.' 

c Miss Fane,' said Vivian, ' if there be any ser- 
vice which I can do any advice which I can give- 
any possible way that I can exert myself for you, oh, 
speak! oh, speak! speak with the most perfect 
confidence with firmness ;with courage ; do not 
fear that your motives will be misconceived that 
your purpose will be misinterpreted that your con- 
fidence will be misunderstood. You are addressing 
one who would lay down his life for you who is 
willing to perform all your commands, and forget 
them when performed. I beseech you to trust me 
believe me that you shall not repent.' 

She answered not, but holding down her head, 
covered her face with her small white hand ; her 



lovely face which was crimsoned with her flashing 
blood. They were now at the end of the terrace 
to return was impossible. If they remained station- 
ary, they must be perceived and joined. What was 
to be done! Oh moment of agony! He led her 
down a solitary walk still further from the house. 
As they proceeded in silence, the bursts of the music, 
and the loud laughter of the joyous guests became 
fainter and fainter, till at last the sounds died' away 
into echo and echo into silence. 

A thousand thoughts dashed through Vivian's 
mind in rapid succession ; but a painful one a most 
painful one to him, to any man always remained 
the last. His companion would not speak ; yet to 
allow her to return home without freeing her mind 
of the burthen, the fearful burthen, which evidently 
overwhelmed it, was impossible. At length he broke 
a silence which seemed to have lasted an age. 

' Miss Fane, do not believe for an instant that I 
am taking advantage of an agitating moment, to 
extract from you a confidence which you may repent. 
I feel assured that I am right in supposing that you 
have contemplated in a calmer moment the possibility 
of my being of service to you ; that, in short, there 
is something in which you require my assistance, my 
co-operation an assistance, Miss Fane a co-opera- 
tion, which, if it produce any benefit to you, will 
make me at length feel that I have not lived in vain. 
I cannot, I cannot allow any feelings of false delicacy 
to prevent me from assisting you in giving utterance 
to thoughts, which you have owned it is absolutely 
necessary should be expressed. Remember, remem- 
ber that you have allowed me to believe that we are 
friends : do not, do not prove by your silence, that 
we are friends only in name.' 



* I am overwhelmed I cannot speak my face 
burns with shame ; I have miscalculated my strength 
of mind perhaps my physical strength ; what, what 
must you think of me?' She spoke in a low and 
smothered voice. 

4 Think of you, Miss Fane! every thing which 
the most devoted respect dare think of an object 
which it reverences. Oh ! understand me ; do not 
believe that I am one who would presume an instant 
on my situation because I have accidentally wit- 
nessed a young and lovely woman betrayed into a dis- 
play of feeling which the artificial forms of cold so- 
ciety cannot contemplate, and dare to ridicule. You 
are speaking to one who also has felt ; who, though a 
man, has wept ; who can comprehend sorrow ; who 
can understand the most secret sensations of an agi- 
tated spirit. Dare to trust me. Be convinced that 
hereafter, neither by word, nor look, hint, nor sign 
on my part, shall you feel, save by your own wish, 
that you have appeared to Vivian Grey in any other 
light than as the accomplished Miss Fane, the idol of 
an admiring circle.' 

* You are too, too good generous, generous man, 
I dare trust any thing to you that I dare trust to 
human being ; but, ' here her voice died away. 

* Miss Fane, it is a painful, a most painful thing for 
me to attempt to guess your thoughts, or anticipate 
your confidence ; but, if if if it be of Mr. St. 
George that you are thinking, have no fear respecting 
him have no fear about his present situation trust 
to me that there shall be no anxiety for his future one. 
I will be his unknown guardian, his unseen friend ; 
the promoter of your wishes, the protector of 
your ' 

' No, no, Mr. Grey,' said Miss Fane, with firmness, 


and looking quickly up, as if her mind were relieved 
by discovering that all this time Vivian had never 
imagined she was thinking of him. ' No, no, Mr. 
Grey, you are mistaken ; it is not of Mr. St. George, 
of Mr. St. George only, that I am thinking. I I 
I am much better now ; I shall be able in an instant 
to speak be able, I trust, to forget how foolish 
how very foolish I have been.' 

* Let us walk on,' continued Miss Fane ; ' let us 
walk on ; we can easily account for our absence if it 
be remarked ; arid it is better, much better, that it 
should be all over : I feel quite well, quite, quite 
well ; and shall be able to speak quite firmly now.' 

4 Do not hurry ; compose yourself, I beseech you ; 
there is no fear of our absence being remarked, Lady 
Madeleine is so surrounded.' 

' After what has passed, Mr. Grey, it seems ridicul- 
ous in me to apologize, as I had intended, for speak- 
ing to you on a graver subject than what has generally 
formed the point of conversation between us. I 
feared that you might misunderstand the motives 
which have dictated my conduct : I have attempted 
not to appear agitated, and I have- been overcome. I 
trust that you will not be offended if I recur to the 
subject of the New House. Do not believe that I 
ever would have allowed my fears, my girlish fears, 
so to have overcome my discretion, so to have over- 
come, indeed, all propriety of conduct on my part, 
as to have induced me to have sought an interview 
with you, to moralize to you about your mode of life. 
No, no, it is not of this that I wish to speak, or 
rather that I will speak. I will hope, I will pray, that 
St. George and yourself have never found in that 
which you have followed as an amusement, the source, 
the origin, the cause of a single unhappy, or even 



anxious moment ; Mr. Grey, I will believe all 
this ' 

4 Dearest Miss Fane, believe it, believe it with con- 
fidence. Of St. George, I can with sincerity aver, 
that it is my firm opinion, that far from being in- 
volved, his fortune is not in the slightest degree 
injured. Believe me, I will not attempt to quiet you 
now, as I would have done at any other time, by tell- 
ing you that you magnify your fears, and allow your 
feelings to exaggerate the danger which exists. There 
has been danger there is danger ; play, very high, 
tremendously high play, has been, and is pursued at 
this New House, but Mr. St. George has never been 
a loser ; and, believe me, if the exertions of man can 
avail, never shall never shall at least unfairly. Of 
the other individual, Miss Fane, whom you have 
honoured by the interest which you have kindly pro- 
fessed in his welfare, allow me to say one word : no 
one can detest, more thoroughly detest, any practice 
which exists in this world Miss Fane cannot detest 
impurity with a more perfect antipathy than he 
does the gaming-table. You know the miserable, 
but miraculous fortune, which made my first night 
here notorious. My luck has stuck by me like a 
curse ; and from the customs of society, from which 
it is impossible to emancipate ourselves, a man in my 
situation cannot cease to play without incurring a slur 
upon his reputation. You will smile at a reputation 
which depends almost upon the commission of a vile 
folly ; we have not time to argue these subtile points 
at present. It is sufficient for me to say, that I can- 
not resist this custom without being prepared to 
chastise the insolence of those who will consequently 
insult me. In that case, my reputation, already tar- 
nished by the non-commission of a folly, will, accord- 


ing to the customs of society, be utterly ruined, unless 
it be re-burnished by the commission of a crime. I 
have no pistol now, Miss Fane, for my fellow- 
creatures, my right hand is still red with the blood 
of my friend. To play therefore, with me has been a 
duty : I still win the duty continues but, believe 
me, that I shall never lose ; and I look forward with 
eagerness to the moment when this thraldom shall 

* Oh ! you've made me so happy ! I feel so per- 
suaded that you have not deceived me the tones of 
your voice, your manner, your expression, convince 
me that you have been sincere, and that I am happy 
happy at least for the present.' 

* For ever I trust, Miss Fane.' 

* Let me, let me now prevent all future misery 
let me speak about that which has long dwelt on my 
mind like a nightmare about that which I did fear it 
was almost too late to speak. Not of your pursuit, 
Mr. Grey not even of that fatal and horrid pursuit, 
do I now think, "but of your companion in this amuse- 
ment, in all amusements it is he, he that I dread, 
that I look upon with horror, even to him, I cannot 
say, with hatred!' 

4 The Baron ! ' said Vivian, calmly. 

* I cannot name him Oh ! dread him, fear him, 
avoid him! it is he that I mean, he of whom I 
thought that you were the victim. Possessing, as he 
does, all the qualifications which apparently would 
render a man's society desirable you must have 
been surprised, you must have wondered at our con- 
duct towards him. Oh! Mr. Grey, when Lady 
Madeleine turned from him with coolness, when she 
answered him in tones which to you might have ap- 
peared harsh ; she behaved to him, in comparison to 



what is his due, and what we sometimes feel to be our 
duty, with affection actually with affection and re- 
gard. Oh! no human being can know what horror 
is, until he looks upon a fellow-creature with the eyes 
that I look upon that man.' She leant upon Vivian's 
arm with her whole weight, and even then he thought 
she must have sunk neither spoke. How solemn is 
the silence of sorrow! 

' I am overcome,' continued Miss Fane ; ' the 
remembrance of what he has done overwhelms me 
I cannot speak it the recollection is death yet you 
must know it. That you might know it, I have 
before attempted. I wished to have spared myself 
the torture which I now endure. It would perhaps 
have been more consistent with my dignity^ it would 
perhaps have been more correct, to have been silent 
but I felt it I felt it a duty which I owed to a fellow- 
creature and your conduct, your kind, your gener- 
ous conduct to me this evening, repays me even for 
all this pain. You must know it, you must know it. 
I will write -ay ! that will do. I will write I can- 
not speak now, it is impossible, but beware of him ; 
you, you are so young ! ' 

4 1 have no words now to thank you, Miss Fane, for 
this. Had I been the victim of von Konigstein, I 
should have been repaid for all my misery by feeling 
that you regretted its infliction ; but I trust that I 
am in no danger : though young, though very 
young, I fear that I am one who must not count my 
time by calendars. I may truly say of myself, " an 
aged interpreter, though young in days." Would 
that I could be deceived! Fear not for your cousin. 
Trust to one whom you have made think better of 
this world, and of his fellow-creatures.' 

The sound of approaching footsteps, and the light 


laugh of pleasure, told of some who were wandering 
like themselves. 

* We had better return,' said Miss Fane ; * I fear 
that Lady Madeleine will observe that I look unwell. 
Some one approaches! No! they pass only the 
top of the walk.' It was St. George and Aurelia 

Quick flew the brilliant hours ; and soon the dance 
was over, and the music mute. Lady Madeleine 
Trevor and Miss Fane retired long before the party 
broke up, and Vivian accompanied them and Mr. 
Sherborne. He did not return to the gay saloon, but 
found himself walking in the same gardens, by the 
side of the same river, lighted by the same moon, and 
listening to the same nightingale, as on the preceding 
night. How much had happened to him in the 
course of one day's circle! How changed were his 
feelings ; not merely from yesternight, but even from 
a few hours since. She loved him! yes, she must 
love him. All was forgotten : he felt as if his dilated 
soul despised its frail and impure tenement. Now, 
indeed, he was in love. The interview with Violet 
Fane came, after his conversation with Lady Made- 
leine, like incense after music. Think not that he 
was fickle, inconstant, capricious ; his love for the first 
had insensibly grown out of his admiration of the 
other ; as a man gazing on a magnificent sunset, re- 
mains, when the heavens have ceased to glow, with 
his eyes fixed on the Evening star. 

It was late when he retired. As he opened his door 
he was surprised to find lights in his chamber. The 
figure of a man appeared seated at the tabk. It 
moved it was Essper George. 


40 1 



THE reader will remember that Vivian had agreed to 
dine, on the day after the fete, with the Baron, in his 
private apartments. This was an arrangement which, 
in fact, the custom of the house did not permit ; but 
the irregularities of great men who are attended by 
Chasseurs, are occasionally winked at by a supple 
maitre d'hotel. Vivian had various reasons for not 
regretting his acceptance of the invitation ; and he 
never shook hands with the Chevalier de Boeffleurs, 
apparently, with greater cordiality, than on the day 
on which he met him at dinner at the Baron von 
Konigstein's. Mr. St. George had not arrived. 

* Past five!' said his Excellency; 'riding out, I 
suppose, with the Fitzlooms. Aurelia is certainly a 
fine girl ; but I should think that Lady Madeleine 
would hardly approve the connexion. The St. 
Georges have blood in their veins ; and would, I 
suppose, as soon think of marrying a Fitzloom, as we 
Germans should of marrying a woman without a von 
before her name. We're quite alone, Grey, only the 
Chevalier and St. George. I had an idea of asking 
Salvinski ; but he is such a regular steam-engine, 
and began such a long story last night about his inter- 
view with the King of Ashantee, that the bare pos- 
sibility of his taking it into his head to finish it to-day 
frightened me. You were away early from the 
Archduke's last night. The business went off well.' 

'Very well, indeed!' said the Chevalier de Boef- 
fleurs; completing by this speech the first dozen 
of words which he had uttered since his stay at 

' I think that last night Lady Madeleine Trevor 


looked perfectly magnificent ; and a certain lady too, 
Grey, eh? Here's St. George. My dear fellow, 
how are you ? Has the fair Aurelia recovered from 
the last night's fatigues ? All in that quarter goes on 
quite well, I hope. Now, Ernstorff dinner, as soon 
as possible.' 

The Baron made up to-day, certainly, for the 
silence of his friend, the Chevalier. He outdid him- 
self. Story after story, adventure after adventure, 
followed each other with the most exciting haste. 
In fact, the Baron never ceased talking the whole 
dinner, except when he refreshed himself with wine, 
which he drank copiously. A nice observer would 
perhaps have considered the Baron's high spirits 
artificial, and his conversation an effort. Yet his 
Excellency's temper, though lively, was generally 
equable ; and his ideas, which always appeared to 
occur easily, were usually thrown out in fluent 
phraseology. The dinner was long, and a great deal 
of wine was drunk ; more, much more, than most 
of the parties present for a long time had been ac- 
customed to. About eight o'clock the Chevalier 
proposed going to the Redoute, but the Baron 

* Let's have an evening altogether : surely we've 
had enough of the Redoute. In my opinion one of 
the advantages of the fete is, that there is no New 
House to-night. Conversation is a novelty. On a 
moderate calculation, I must have told you to-day at 
least two thousand original anecdotes. I've done 
my duty. It's the Chevalier's turn now. Come, 
de Boeffleurs a choice one!' 

4 1 remember a story Prince Salvinski once told 

* No, no that's too bad none of that Polish 



bear's romances ; if we have his stories, we may as 
well have his company.' 

* But it's a very curious story,' continued the 
Chevalier, with a little animation. 

' Oh ! so is every story, according to the storier.' 
4 I think, von Konigstein, you imagine no one can 
tell a story but yourself,' said de Bceffleurs, actually 
indignant. Vivian had never heard him speak so 
'much before, and really began to believe that he was 
not quite an automaton. 

* Let's have it ! ' said St. George. 

< It's a story told of a Polish nobleman a Count 
somebody : I never can remember their crack-jaw 
names. Well! the point is this,' said the silent 
little Chevalier, who apparently, already repented of 
the boldness of his offer, and, misdoubting his 
powers, wished to begin with the end of his tale ' the 
point is this he was playing one day at ecarte with 
the Governor of Wilna the stake was trifling ; but 
he had a bet, you see, with the Governor of a thou- 
sand roubles ; a bet with the Governor's secretary 
never mind the amount, say two hundred and fifty, 
you see ; then, he went on the turn-up with the 
Commandant's wife ; and took the pips on the trumps 
with the Archbishop of Warsaw. To understand 
the point of the story, you see, you must have a 
distinct conception how the game stood. You see, 
St. George, there was the bet with the Governor, one 
thousand roubles ; the Governor's secretary, never 
mind the amount, say two hundred and fifty ; the 
turn-up with the Commandant's lady, and the pips 
with the Archbishop of Warsaw. Proposed three 
times one for the king the Governor drew ace 
the Governor was already three and the ten. When 
the Governor scored king, the Archbishop gave the 



odds drew knave queen one hand the Count of- 
fered to propose fourth time Governor refused. 
King to six, ace fell to knave queen cleared on 
Governor lost, besides bets with the whole etat- 
major ; the Secretary gave his bill ; the Command- 
ant's lady pawned her jewels ; and the Archbishop 
was done on the pips!' 

' By Jove, what a Salvinski !' 

4 How many trumps had the Governor ?' asked St. 

4 Three,' said the Chevalier. 

* Then it's impossible : I don't believe the story ; 
it couldn't be.' 

' I beg your pardon,' said the Chevalier ; * you see 
the Governor had ' 

* For heaven's sake, don't let us have it all over 
again ! ' said the Baron. * Well ! if this be your 
model for an after-dinner anecdote, which ought to 
be as piquant as an anchovy toast, I'll never complain 
of your silence in future. I'm sure you never learnt 
this in the Palais Royal!' 

* The story's a true story,' said the Chevalier ; 
' have you got a pack of cards, von Konigstein ? 
Pll show it you.' 

' There is not such a thing in the room,' said the 

' Well, I never heard of a room without a pack of 
cards before,' said the Chevalier ; I'll send for one 
to my own apartments.' 

1 Oh ! by-the-bye, perhaps Ernstorff has got a 
pack. Here Ernstorff, have you got a pack of 
cards ? That's good ; bring it immediately.' 

The cards were brought, and the Chevalier began 
to fight his battle over again ; but could not satisfy 
Mr. St. George. You see there was the bet with 



the Governor, and the pips, as I said before, with the 
Archbishop of Warsaw.' 

' My dear de Boeffleurs, let's no more of this. If 
you like to have a game of ecarte with St. George, 
well and good ; but as for quarrelling the whole even- 
ing about some blundering lie of Salvinski's, it really 
is too much. You two can play, and I can talk to 
Don Vivian, who, by-the-bye, is rather of the rueful 
countenance to-night. Why, my dear fellow, 
I haven't heard your voice this evening : frightened 
by the fate of the Archbishop of Warsaw, I sup- 

' Ecarte is so devilish dull,' said St. George ; ' and 
it's such a trouble to deal.' 

' I'll deal for both, if you like,' said de Boeffleurs ; 
' I'm used to dealing.' 

' Oh ! no I won't play ecarte ; let's have some- 
thing in which we can all join.' 

4 Rouge-et-Noir,' suggested the Chevalier, in a 
careless tone, as if he had no taste for the amuse- 

' There isn't enough is there?' asked St. George. 

* Oh ! two are enough, you know one deals, 
much more four.' 

' Well, I don't care Rouge-et-Noir then let's 
have Rouge-et-Noir : von Konigstein, what say 
you to Rouge-et-Noir? De Boeffleurs says we can 
play it here very well. Come, Grey ! ' 

* Oh ! Rouge-et-Noir, Rouge-et-Noir,' said the 
Baron ; ' haven't you both had Rouge-et-Noir 
enough? Ain't I to be allowed one holiday? 
Well ! any thing to please you ; so Rouge-et-Noir, 
if it must be so.' 

* If you all wish it, I have no objection,' said 



4 Well then, let's sit down ; Ernstorff has, I dare 
say, another pack of cards, and St. George will be 
dealer, I know he likes that ceremony.' 

4 No, no, I appoint the Chevalier.' 

c Very well,' said de Boeffleurs ; c the plan will be 
for two to bank against the table ; the table to play 
on the same colour by joint agreement. You can 
join me, von Konigstein, and pay or receive with me, 
from Mr. St. George and Grey.' 

' I'll bank with you, if you like, Chevalier,' said 
Vivian, very quietly. 

* Oh ! certainly Mr. Grey certainly, Grey most 
certainly ; that is if you like : -but perhaps the 
Baron is more used to banking ; you perhaps don't 
understand it.' 

' Perfectly ; it appears to me to be very simple.' 

1 No don't you bank, Grey,' said St. George ; 
* I want you to play with me against the Chevalier 
and the Baron I like your luck.' 

1 Luck is very capricious, remember, Mr. St. 

4 Oh, no ! I like your luck ; I like your luck 
don't bank.' 

1 Be it so.' 

Playing commenced : an hour elapsed, and the 
situation of none of the parties was materially differ- 
ent to what it had been when they began the game. 
Vivian proposed leaving off ; but Mr. St. George 
avowed that he felt very fortunate, and that he had a 
presentiment that he should win. Another hour 
elapsed, and he had lost considerably. Eleven 
o'clock. Vivian's luck had also deserted him. Mr. 
St. George was losing desperately Midnight 
Vivian had lost back half his gains on the season. 
St. George' still more desperate; all his coolness had 



deserted him. He had persisted obstinately against 
a run on the red ; then floundered, and got en- 
tangled in a see-saw, which alone cost him a thousand. 

Ernstorff now brought in refreshments ; and for a 
moment they ceased playing. The Baron opened a 
bottle of champaign ; and St. George and the Cheva- 
lier were stretching their legs and composing their 
minds in very different ways the first in walking 
rapidly up and down the room, and the other by 
lying very quietly at his full length on the sofa. 
Vivian was employed in building houses with the 

' Grey,' said the Chevalier de Boeffleurs ^ ' I can't 
imagine why you don't for a moment try to forget 
the cards ; that's the only way to win. Never sit 
musing over the table.' 

But Grey was not to be persuaded to give up 
building his pagoda ; which, now many stories high, 
like a more celebrated, but scarcely more substantial 
structure, fell with a crash. Vivian collected the scat- 
tered cards into two divisions. 

* Now!' said the Baron, seating himself; < for St. 
George's revenge.' 

The Chevalier, and the greatest sufferer took their 

* Is Ernstorff coming in again, Baron ?' asked 
Vivian, very calmly. 

' No ! I think not.' 

' Let MS be sure : it's disagreeable to be dis- 
turbed at this time of night, and so interested as we 

' Lock the door, then,' said St. George. 

< A very good plan,' said Vivian ; and he locked it 

Now gentlemen,' said Vivian, rising from the 


table, and putting both packs of cards into his pocket 
* Now gentlemen, I have another game to play.' 
The Chevalier started on his chair the Baron turned 
quite pale, but both were silent. * Mr. St. George,' 
continued Vivian ; ' I think that you are in debt to 
the Chevalier de Boeffleurs, upwards of two thousand 
pounds ; and to Baron von Konigstein, something 
more than half that sum. I have to inform you, Sir, 
that it is utterly unnecessary for you to satisfy the 
claims of either of these gentlemen, which are 
founded neither in law, nor in honour.' 

* Mr. Grey, what am I to understand ?' asked the 
quiet Chevalier de Boeffleurs, with the air of a wolf, 
and the voice of a lion. 

* Understand Sir ! ' answered Vivian, sternly ; that 
I am not one who will be bullied by a black- 

'Grey! good God! Grey, what do you mean?' 
asked the Baron. 

' That which it is my duty, not my pleasure, to ex- 
plain, Baron von Konigstein.' 

4 If you mean to insinuate,' burst forth the Cheva- 
lier, * if you mean to insinuate ' 

' I mean to insinuate nothing, Sir ; I leave insinua- 
tions and inuendos to shuffling chevaliers d'industrie. 
I mean to prove everything.' 

Mr. St. George did not speak, but seemed as utter- 
ly astounded and overwhelmed as Baron von Konig- 
stein himself; who, with his arm leaning on the 
table, his hands clasped, and the forefinger of his right 
hand playing convulsively on his left, was pale as 
death, and did not even breathe. 

' Gentlemen,' said Vivian, I shall not detain you 
long, though I have much to say that is to the pur- 
pose. I am perfectly cool, and believe me, perfectly 



resolute. Let me recommend to you all the same 
temperament it may be better for you. Rest as- 
sured, that if you flatter yourselves that I am one to 
be pigeoned, and then bullied, you are mistaken. In 
one word, I am aware of every thing that has been 
arranged for the reception of Mr. St. George and my- 
self this evening. Your marked cards are in my 
pocket, and can only be obtained by you with my life. 
Here are two of us against two ; we are equally 
matched in number, and I, gentlemen, am armed. 
If I were not, you would not dare to go to extremi- 
ties. Is it not, then, the wisest course to be tem- 
perate, my friends ?' 

' This is some vile conspiracy of your own, fellow,' 
said de Breffleurs ; ' marked cards indeed ! a pretty 
tale, forsooth! The Ministers of a first-rate power 
playing with marked cards! The story will gain 
credit, and on the faith of whom? An adventurer 
that no one knows ; who, having failed this night in 
his usual tricks, and lost money which he cannot pay, 
takes advantage of the marked cards, which he has 
not succeeded in introducing, and pretends, forsooth, 
that they are those which he has stolen from our 
table ; our own cards being, previously to his accusa- 
tion, concealed in a secret pocket.' 

The impudence of the fellow staggered even 
Vivian. As for Mr. St. George, he stared like a wild 
man. Before Vivian could answer him, the Baron 
had broke silence. It was with the greatest effort 
that he seemed to dig his words out of his 

* No no this is too much ! it is all over ! I am 
lost ; but I will not add crime to crime. Your cour- 
age and your fortune have saved you, Mr. Grey, and 
your friend, from the designs of villains. And you ! 



wretch,' said he, turning to De Boeffleurs, < sleep now 
in peace at length you have undone me.' He 
leant on the table, and buried his face in his 

4 Chicken-hearted fool ! ' said the Chevalier ; < is 
this the end of all your promises, and all your 
pledges? But remember, Sir! remember. I have 
no taste for scenes. Good night, gentlemen. Baron, 
I expect to hear from you? 

' Stop, Sir ! ' said Vivian ; ' no one leaves this room 
without my permission.' 

' I am at your service, Sir, when you please,' said 
the Chevalier, throwing down his card. 

* It is not my intention to detain you long, Sir ; 
far from it ; I have every inclination to assist you in 
your last exit from this room, had I time, it should 
not be by the door ; as it is, go ! in the devil's name.' 
So saying, he hurled the adventurous Frenchman half 
down the corridor. 

4 Baron von Konigstein,' said Vivian, turning to the 
Baron ; ' you have proved yourself, by your conduct 
this evening, to be a better man than I imagined you. 
I confess that I thought you had been too much 
accustomed to such scenes, to be sensible of the horror 
of detection.' 

1 Never!' said the Baron, with emphasis, with 
energy. The firm voice and manner in which he 
pronounced this single word, wonderfully contrasted 
with his delivery when he had last spoke, but his 
voice immediately died away. 

* 'Tis all over! 'tis all over! I have no wish to 
excite your pity, gentlemen, or to gain your silence, 
by practising upon your feelings. Be silent ; I am 
not the less ruined ; not the less disgraced ; not the 
less utterly undone. Be silent ; my honour, all the 



same in four and twenty hours, has gone for ever : I 
have no motive then to deceive you. You must be- 
lieve what I speak ; even what 7 speak, the most 
degraded, the vilest of men. I say again, never, 
never, never, never, never was my honour before 
sullied, though guilty of a thousand follies. You 
see before you, gentlemen, the unhappy victim of cir- 
cumstances ; of circumstances which he has in vain 
struggled to control ; to which he has at length fallen 
a victim. I am not pretending, for a moment, that 
my crimes are to be accounted for by an inexorable 
fate, and not to be expiated by my everlasting misery : 
No, no ! I have been too weak to be virtuous : but 
I have been tried ; tried most bitterly. I am the 
most unfortunate of men ; I was not born to be a 
villain. Four years have passed since I was banished 
from the country in which I was honoured; my 
prospects in life blasted ; my peace of mind de- 
stroyed ; and all because a crime was committed, of 
any participation in which I am as innocent as your- 
selves. Driven in despair to wander, I tried, in the 
wild dissipation of Naples, to forget my existence, 
and my misery. I found my Fate in the person of 
this vile Frenchman, who never since has quitted me. 
Even after two years of madness in that fatal place, 
my natural disposition rallied ; I struggled to save 
myself; I quitted it. I was already involved to De 
Boeffleurs ; I became still more so, in gaining from 
him the means of satisfying all claims against me. 
Alas ! I found I had sold myself to a scoundrel ; a 
most unadulterated villain ; a devil, a very devil ; 
with a heart like an adder's. Incapable of a stray 
generous sensation, he has looked upon mankind 
during his whole life, with the eyes of a bully of a 
gaming-house. I still struggled to free myself from 



this man ; and I indemnified him for his advances, by 
procuring him a place in the mission to which, with 
the greatest difficulty and perseverance, I had at 
length procured my appointment. In public life I 
yet hoped to forget my private misery. At Frank- 
fort I felt, that though not happy, I might be calm. I 
determined never again even to run the risk of endur- 
ing the slavery of debt. I forswore, with the most 
solemn oaths, the gaming table ; and had it not been 
for the perpetual sight of De Boeffieurs, I might, per- 
haps, have felt at ease ; though the remembrance of 
my blighted prospects, the eternal feeling that I ex- 
perienced of being born for nobler ends, was quite 
sufficient perpetually to embitter my existence. The 
second year of my Frankfort appointment, I was 
tempted to this unhappy place. The unexpected 
sight of faces which I had known in England, though 
they called up the most painful associations, strength- 
ened me, nevertheless, in my resolution to be virtu- 
ous. My unexpected, my extraordinary fortune at 
the Redoute, the first night, made me forget all my 
resolves, and has led to all this misery. I make my 
sad tale brief. I got involved at the New House : 
De Boeffleurs once more assisted me ; though his 
terms were most severe. Yet, yet again, I was mad 
enough, vile enough, to risk what I did not possess. 
I lost to Prince Salvinski and a Russian gentleman, a 
considerable sum on the night before the fete. It 
is often the custom at the New House, as you know, 
among men who are acquainted, to pay and receive all 
losses which are considerable on the next night of 
meeting. The fete gave me breathing time : It was 
not necessary to redeem my pledge till the fourth 
night. I rushed to De Boeffleurs; he refused to 
assist me ; alleging his own losses, and his previous 



advance. What was to be done ? No possibility of 
making any arrangement with Salvinski. Had he 
won of me as others have done, an arrangement, 
though painful, would perhaps have been possible ; 
but, by a singular fate, whenever I have chanced to be 
successful, it is of this man that I have won. De 
Bosffleurs then was the only chance. He was in- 
exorable. I prayed to him ; I promised him every 
thing ; I offered him any terms ; I besought him on 
my knees ; in vain ! in vain ! At length, when he 
had worked me up to the point of last despair, he 
whispered hope. I listened, let me be quick I 
why finish why finish ; you know I fell ! ' The 
Baron again covered his face, and appeared perfectly 

{ By God ! it's too horrible,' said St. George. 
4 Grey, let's do something for him?' 

* My dear St. George,' said Vivian, ' be calm you 
are taken by surprise : I was prepared for all this. 
Believe me, it is better for you to leave us. If, on 
consideration, we think that anything, any real 
benefit can be done to this unhappy gentleman, I am 
sure that we shall not be backward. But I cannot 
permit your generous feelings to be taken advantage 
of, by a gamester a madman, who, if freed from his 
present difficulties this moment, will commit the same 
follies, and the same crimes to-morrow. I recom- 
mend you to retire, and meet me in the morning : 
breakfast with me at eight, we can then arrange every- 

Vivian's conduct had been so decisive, and evi- 
dently so well matured, that St. George felt, that in 
the present case, it was for him only to obey; and 
squeezing Vivian's hand very warmly, he retired, 
with wonder still expressed on his countenance ; for 



he had not yet, in the slightest degree, recovered from 
the first surprise. 

' Baron von Konigstein,' said Vivian, to the un- 
happy man, < we are alone. Mr. St. George has left 
the room : you are freed from the painful presence 
of the cousin of Captain Fane.' 

c You know all then ! ' exclaimed the Baron, quickly 
looking up ; * or you have read my secret thoughts. 
How wonderful! at that very moment I was think- 
ing of my friend. Would I had died with him! 
You know all then ; and now now you must believe 
me guilty. Yet, Mr. Grey, at this moment at this 
moment of deepest affliction, of annihilating sorrow ; 
when I can gain nothing by deceit ; when, whatever 
may have been my loose expressions in a lighter hour, 
I am thinking of another world : I swear and if I 
swear falsely, may I fall down a livid corpse at your 
feet, I swear that I was guiltless of the crime for 
which I suffered, guiltless as yourself. Dare I ask if 
you believe me?' 

He awaited Vivian's answer, with the most eager 
anxiety ; his mouth was open ; his eyes half started 
from their sockets : had his life or reputation de- 
pended upon the answer, he could not have gasped 
with more convulsive agony. 

( I do believe you.' 

( Then God be thanked ! I owe you the greatest 
favour that I yet owe human being. What may be 
my fate my end I know not. Probably a few 
hours, and all will be over. Yet, before we part, Sir, 
it would be a relief ; you would be doing a kind and 
Christian service to a dying man, to bear a message 
from me to one with whom you are acquainted to 
one whom I cannot now name.' 

'Lady Madeleine Trevor, Sir?' 


' Again you have read my thoughts ! Lady Made- 
leine ! is it she who told you of my early history? 
Answer me, I beseech you ?' 

' I cannot answer. All that I know, is known to 

1 I must speak ! if you have time, Mr. Grey, if 
you can listen for half an hour to a miserable being, 
it would be a consolation to me. I should die with 
ease, if I thought that Lady Madeleine could believe 
me innocent of that first great offence.' 

* Your Excellency may address anything to me, if 
it be your wish, even at this hour of the night. It 
may be better ; after what has passed, we neither of 
us can sleep, and this business must be arranged at 

* My object, Mr. Grey, is, that Lady Madeleine 
should receive from me at this moment, at a time 
when I can have no interest to deceive, an account of 
the particulars of her cousin's, and my friend's death. 
I sent it written after the horrid event, but she was 
ill ; and Trevor, who was very bitter against me, 
returned the letters unopened. For four years, I 
have never travelled without these rejected letters ; 
this year I have them not. But you could convey to 
Lady Madeleine my story as now given to you ; to 
you at this horrid moment. For God's sake do, Sir, 
I beseech you ! ' 

* Speak on, speak on ! ' 

* I must say one word of my connexion with the 
family, to enable you fully to understand the horrid 
event, of which, if, as I believe, you only know what 
all know, you can form but a most imperfect concep- 
tion. When I was Minister at the Court of London, 
I became acquainted became, indeed, intimate with 
Mr. Trevor, then in office, the husband of Lady 



Madeleine. Her ladyship was just married. Trevor 
was an able and honourable man, but advanced in 
years ; had he been younger he was not the man to 
have rivetted the affections of any woman. As it 
was, his marriage was a mere political match. I will 
not stop now to moralize on these unhappy con- 
nexions, in which the affections on neither side are 
consulted ; but assuredly, in the present instance, 
Trevor had been more cautious in securing the 
boroughs of the Earl, than the heart of the Earl's 
daughter. I saw all this, Mr. Grey ; I, still young, 
and with such blood flowing in my veins, that the 
youth of common men was actually old age in com- 
parison with my sensations : I saw all this in the 
possession of all those accomplishments and qualities, 
which, according to the world, work such marvels 
with women. I saw all this, Mr. Grey : I, a liber- 
tine by principle. Of Lady Madeleine's beauty, of 
her soul, I need not speak. You have the happiness 
of being the friend of that matchless creature. Of 
myself, at that time, I may say, that though depraved, 
I was not heartless ; and that there were moments 
when I panted to be excellent. Lady Madeleine and 
myself became friends ; she found in me a com- 
panion, who not only respected her talents, and 
delighted in her conversation ; but one who in 
return was capable of instructing, and was overjoyed 
to amuse her. I loved her ; but when I loved her, 
Sir, I ceased to be a libertine. At first I thought that 
nothing in the world could have tempted me to have 
allowed her for an instant to imagine that I dared to 
look upon her in any other light than as a friend; 
but the negligence, the coldness of Trevor, the over- 
powering mastery of my own passions, drove me one 
day past the line, and I wrote that which I dared not 
20 4I7 


utter. But understand me, Sir ; it was no common, 
no usual letter that I wrote. It never entered into 
my mind for an instant to insult such a woman with 
the common-place sophistry the disguised senti- 
ments of a ribald. No! no! I loved Lady Made- 
leine with all my spirit's strength. I would have 
sacrificed all my views in life my ambition my 
family my fortune my country, to have gained 
her ; and I told her this in terms of the most respect- 
ful adoration. I worshipped the divinity, even while 
I attempted to profane the altar. Sir, when I had 
sent this letter, I was in despair. Conviction of the 
perfect insanity of my conduct flashed across my 
mind. I expected never to see her again. There 
came an answer ; I opened it with the greatest agita- 
tion ; to my surprise an appointment. Why, why 
trouble you with a detail of my feelings at this 
moment my mad hope my dark despair. The 
moment for the interview arrived. I was received 
neither with affection, nor anger. In sorrow, in 
sorrow she spoke. I listened in despair. I was 
more madly in love with her than ever. That very 
love made me give her such evidences of a contrite 
spirit, that I was pardoned. I rose with a resolution 
to be virtuous with a determination to be her 
friend ; then, then I made the fatal promise which 
you know of to be doubly the friend of a man, 
whose friend I already was ; it was then that I 
pledged myself to Lady Madeleine to be the guardian 
spirit of her cousin.' Here the Baron was so over- 
powered by his emotions that he leant back in his 
chair and ceased to speak. In a few minutes he 
resumed. .-[.>- 

{ Mr. Grey, I did my duty ; by all that's sacred I 
did my duty! night, and day, I was with young 



Fane. A thousand times he was on the brink of 
m i n a thousand times I saved him. One day 
one never to be forgotten day, one most dark and 
damnable day, I called on him, and found him on the 
point of joining a coterie of the most desperate char- 
acter. I remonstrated with him; I entreated; I 
supplicated him not to go in vain. At last he 
agreed to forego his engagement, on condition that I 
dined with him. There were reasons that day of 
importance for my not staying with him ; yet every 
consideration vanished, when I thought of her for 
whom I was exerting myself. I stayed with him. 
Fane was frantic this day ; and, imagining, of 
course, that there was no chance of his leaving his 
home, I did not refuse to drink freely to drink 
deeply ! My doing so was the only chance of keep- 
ing him at home. On a sudden he started up, and 
would quit the house. My utmost exertions could 
not prevent him. At last I prevailed upon him to 
call upon the Trevors, as I thought that there, at 
least, he would be safe. He agreed. As we were 
passing down Pall Mall, we met two foreigners of 
distinction, and a Noble of your country ; they were 
men of whom we both knew little. I had myself 
introduced Fane to the foreigners a few days before, 
being aware that they were men of high rank. After 
some conversation, they asked us to join them at 
supper, at the house of their English friend. I 
declined ; but nothing could induce Fane to refuse 
them ; and I finally accompanied him. Play was 
introduced after supper ; I made an ineffectual 
struggle to get Fane home ; but I was too full of 
wine to be energetic. After losing a small sum, I got 
up from the table, and staggering to a sofa, fell fast 
asleep. Even as I passed Fane's chair in this condi- 



tion, my master-thought was evident, and I pulled 
him by the shoulder ; all was useless, I woke to 
madness ! ' It was terrible to witness the anguish of 
Von Konigstein.; bK 

' Could you not clear yourself?' asked Vivian, for 
he felt it necessary to speak. 

' Clear myself! Every thing told against me. 
The villains were my friends, not the sufferer's ; I 
was not injured ; my dining with him was part of the 
conspiracy ; he was intoxicated previous to his ruin. 
Conscious of my innocence, quite desperate, but con- 
fiding in my character, I accused the guilty trio, 
publicly accused them ; they recriminated, and an- 
swered ; and without clearing themselves, convinced 
the public that I was their dissatisfied and dis- 
appointed tool. I can speak no more.* Here the 
head of the unhappy man sunk down upon his breast. 
His sad tale was told ; the excitement was over ; he 
now only felt his despair. 

It is awful to witness sudden death ; but, oh ! how 
much more awful it is to witness in a moment the 
moral fall of a fellow-creature ! How tremendous is 
the quick succession of mastering passions! The 
firm, the terrifically firm, the madly resolute denial of 
guilt ; that eagerness of protestation, which is a sure 
sign of crime ; then the agonizing suspense before 
the threatened proof is produced the hell of detec- 
tion! the audible anguish of sorrow the curses of 
remorse the silence of despair! Few of us, unfor- 
tunately, have passed through life without having 
beheld some instance of this instantaneous degrada- 
tion of human nature. But oh! how terrible is it 
when the confessed criminal has been but a moment 
before our friend. What a contrast to the laugh of 
joyous companionship is the quivering tear of an 



agonized frame! how terrible to be prayed to by 
those, whose wishes a moment before we lived only to 
anticipate ! 

And bitter as might have been the feelings, and 
racked as might have been the heart of Von Konig- 
stein, he could not have felt more at this moment 
more exquisite anguish deeper remorse than did 
Vivian Grey. Openly to have disgraced this man! 
How he had been deceived! His first crime the 
first crime of such a being ; of one who had suffered 
so much so unjustly! Could he but have guessed 
the truth, he would have accused the Baron in private 
have awakened him to the enormity of his con- 
templated crime have saved him from its perpetra- 
tion have saved him from the perpetration of any 
other. But he had imagined him to be a systematic, 
a heartless villain and he looked forward to this 

night to avenge the memory of the brother of 

her that he loved. 

1 Von Konigstein,' said Vivian, after a long silence ; 
* I feel for you. Had I known this, believe me, that 
I would have spared both you and myself this night 
of misery. I would have prevented you from look- 
ing back to this day with remorse. I am not one 
who delight in witnessing the misery or degradation 
of my species. Do not despair ; you have suffered 
for that of which you were not guilty ; you must not 
suffer now for what has passed. Much, much would 
I give to see you freed from that wretched knave, 
whose vile career I was very nearly tempted this even- 
ing to have terminated for ever. To Lady Made- 
leine I shall make the communication you desire, and 
I will answer for her Ladyship that your communica- 
tion will be credited. Let this give you hope. As 
to the transactions of this evening, the knowledge of 



them can never transpire to the world. It is the 
interest of De Boeffleurs to be silent : if he speak, no 
one will credit the tale of such a creature, who, if he 
speak truth, must proclaim his own infamy. For the 
perfect silence of the Trevor party, I pledge myself. 
They have done you too much injustice not to hail 
with pleasure the opportunity of making you some 
atonement. And now for the immediate calls upon 
your honour ; in what sum are you indebted to 
Prince Salvinski, and his friend?' 

'Thousands! two three thousand!' 
' 1 shall then have an opportunity of ridding myself 
of that, the acquisition of which, to me, has been 
matter of the greatest sorrow. Baron Von Konig- 
stein, your honour is saved ; I pledge myself 
to discharge the claims of Salvinski, and his 

* Impossible ! I cannot allow ' 

* Stop sir! in this business I must command. I 
wished not to recur to what has passed you make 
me. Surely there can be no feelings of delicacy 
between us two now. If I gave you the treasures of 
the Indies you would not be under so great an 
obligation to me as you are already : I say this with 
pain. I recommend you to leave Ems to-morrow. 
Public business will easily account for your sudden 
departure. Let us not meet again. And now, 
Von Konigstein, your character is yet safe ; 
you are yet in the prime of life ; you have 
vindicated yourself from that which has preyed 
upon your mind for years. Cease to accuse your 
fate ; find the causes of your past misery in your own 
unbridled passions. Restrain them, and be happy!' 
Vivian was about to leave the room, when the Baron 
started from his seat, and seized his hand ; he would 



have spoken, but the words died upon his lips ; 
and before he could recover himself, Vivian had 


THE sudden departure of Baron Von Konigstein 
from the Baths excited great surprise, and sorrow. 
All wondered at the cause, and all regretted the effect. 
The Archduke missed his good stories : the Rouge- 
et-noir table, his constant presence ; and Monsieur le 
Restaurateur gave up, in consequence, an embryo 
idea of a fete and fire-works for his own benefit ; 
which agreeable plan he had trusted with his Excel- 
lency's generous co-operation as steward, or patron, 
he should have had no difficulty in carrying into 
execution. But no one was more surprised, and 
more regretted the absence of his Excellency, than 
his friend Mr. Fitzloom. What could be the 
reason ? Public business of course. Indeed he had 
learnt as much, confidentially, from Cracowsky. He 
tried Mr. Grey, but could elicit nothing satisfac- 
torily ; he pumped Mr. St. George, but produced 
only the waters of oblivion : Mr. St. George was 
gifted, when it suited his purpose, with a most con- 
venient want of memory. There must be something 
in the wind perhaps a war. Was the independence 
of Greece about to be acknowledged, or the depend- 
ence of Spain about to be terminated ? What first- 
rate power had marched a million of soldiers into the 
land of a weak neighbour, on the mere pretence of 
exercising the military? What patriots had had the 
proud satisfaction of establishing a constitutional 
government without bloodshed to be set aside in 
the course of the next month in the same manner? 
Had a conspiracy for establishing a republic in Russia 


been frustrated by the timely information of the in- 
tended first Consuls! Were the Janissaries learning 
mathematics? or had Lord Cochrane take Constan- 
tinople in the James Watt steam-packet? One of 
these many events must have happened but which ? 
At length Fitzloom decided on a general war. Eng- 
land must interfere either to defeat the ambition of 
France or to curb the rapacity of Russia or to 
check the arrogance of Austria or to regenerate 
Spain or to redeem Greece or to protect Portugal 
or to shield the Brazils or to uphold the Bible 
Societies or to consolidate the Greek Church or to 
monopolize the commerce of Mexico or to dissemi- 
nate the principles of free trade or to keep up her 
high character or to keep up the price of corn. 
England must interfere. In spite of his conviction, 
however, Fitzloom did not alter the arrangements of 
his tour he still intended to travel for two years. 
All he did, was to send immediate orders to his 
broker in England to sell two millions of consols. 
The sale was of course effected the example fol- 
lowed stocks fell ten per cent. the exchange turned 
money became scarce. The public funds of all 
Europe experienced a great decline smash went the 
country banks consequent runs on the London a 
dozen Baronets failed in one morning Portland- 
place deserted the cause of infant Liberty at a ter- 
rific discount the Greek loan disappeared like a 
vapour in a storm all the new American States 
refused to pay their dividends manufactories 
deserted the revenue in a decline the country in 
despair orders in council meetings of parliament 
change of ministry and new loan! Such were 
the terrific consequences of a diplomatist turning 
black-leg! This secret history of the late distress is 



a lesson to all modern statesmen. Rest assured, that 
in politics, however tremendous the effects, the causes 
are often as trifling, and sometimes still more despic- 

Vivian found his reception by the Trevor party, 
the morning after the memorable night, a sufficient 
reward for all his anxiety and exertion. St. George, 
a generous, open-hearted young man, full of grati- 
tude to Vivian, and regretting his previous want of 
cordiality towards him, now delighted in doing full 
justice to his coolness, courage, and ability. Lady 
Madeleine said a great deal in the most graceful and 
impressive manner ; but Violet Fane scarcely spoke. 
Vivian, however, read in her eyes her approbation 
and her gratitude. Mr. Sherborne received our hero 
with a set speech, in the middle of which he broke 
down ; for the old gentleman's stout heart was full : 
and, shaking Vivian warmly by the hand, he gave 
him, in a manner which affected all present, his bless- 
ing v I knew I was right in my opinion of you ; I 
saw directly you were not a mere young man of the 
present day you all see I was right in my opinion ; 
if I hadn't been, I should have owned it I should 
have had the candour to acknowledge I was wrong 
never ashamed to confess I'm mistaken.' 

4 And now, how came you to discover the whole 
plot, Mr. Grey?' asked Lady Madeleine < for we have 
not yet heard. Was it at the table ?' 

' They would hardly have had recourse to such 
clumsy instruments, as would have given us the 
chance of detecting the conspiracy by casual observa- 
tion. No, no, we owe our preservation and our 
gratitude to one, whom we must hereafter count 
among our friends. I was prepared, as I told you, 
for everything ; and though I had seen similar cards 



to those with which they played only a few hours 
before, it was with difficulty that I satisfied myself at 
the table, that the cards we lost by were prepared ; so 
wonderful is the contrivance ! ' 

4 But who is the unknown friend?' said Violet 
Fane, with great eagerness. 

* I must have the pleasure of keeping you all 
in suspense,' said Vivian : ' cannot any of you 
guess ?' 

4 None none none ! ' 

* What say you then to Essper George ? J 

* Impossible ! ' 

* It is the fact, that he, and he alone, is our pre- 
server. Soon after my arrival at this place, this 
singular being was seized with the unaccountable 
fancy of becoming my servant. You all remember 
his unexpected appearance one day in the saloon. In 
the evening of the same day,, I found him sleeping at 
the door of my room ; and thinking it high time that 
he should be taught more discretion, I spoke to him 
very seriously the next morning respecting his 
troublesome and eccentric conduct. It was then that 
I learnt his wish. I objected, of course, to engaging 
a servant of whose previous character I was ignorant, 
and of which I could not be informed ; and one 
whose peculiar habits would render both himself and 
his master notorious. While I declined his services, 
I also advised him most warmly to give up all idea of 
deserting his present mode of life, for which I 
thought him extremely well suited. The conse- 
quence of my lecture, was what you all perceived with 
surprise, a great change in Essper's character. He 
became serious, reserved, and retiring ; and com- 
menced his career as a respectable character, by throw- 
ing off his quaint costume. In a short time, by dint 



of making a few bad bargains, he ingratiated himself 
with Ernstorff, Von Konigstein's pompous Chasseur. 
His object in forming this connection, was to gain an 
opportunity of becoming acquainted with the duties 
of a gentleman's servant, and in this he has succeeded. 
About a week since, he purchased from Ernstorff a 
large quantity of cast-off apparel of the Baron's and 
other perquisites of a great man's valet ; among these 
were some playing cards which had been borrowed 
one evening in great haste from the servant of that 
rascal De Boeffleurs, and never returned. On acci- 
dentally examining these cards, Essper, to his horror 
and surprise, detected they were marked. The 
system on which the marks are formed and under- 
stood, is so simple and novel, that it was long before 
I could bring myself to believe that his suspicions 
were founded even on a probability. At length, how- 
ever, he convinced me. It is at Vienna, he tells me, 
that he has met with these cards before ; or with some 
marked, if not on the same, certainly on a similar 
principle. The marks are all on the rim of the cards ; 
and an experienced dealer, that is to say a black-leg, 
can with these marks produce any results, and com- 
binations, which may suit his purpose. Essper tells 
me that De Boeffleurs is even more skilled in sleight 
of hand than himself. From Ernstorff, Essper learnt 
on the day of the Fete that Mr. St. George was to 
dine with the Chevalier at the Baron's apartments on 
the morrow, and that there was a chance that I should 
join them. Fie suspected that villainy was in the 
wind, and when I retired to my room at a late hour 
on the night of the fete, I there met him, and it was 
then that he revealed to me every thing which I have 
told you. Am I not right then, in calling him our 
preserver ?' 



' What can be done for him ?' said Lady Made- 

' His only wish is already granted ; he is my ser- 
vant. That he will serve me diligently, and faith- 
fully, I have no doubt. I only wish that he would 
accept, or could appreciate a more worthy reward.' 

* Can man be more amply rewarded,' said Miss 
Fane, ' than by choosing his own remuneration ? I 
think he has shown in his request, his accustomed 
talent. I must go and see him this moment.^va ano 

' Say nothing of what has passed, he is prepared for 
silence from all parties.',-^ 3 

A week, a happy week passed over, and few 
minutes of the day found Vivian absent from the 
side of Violet Fane ; and now he thought again of 
England, of his return to that country under very 
different circumstances to what he had ever con- 
templated. Soon, very soon, he trusted to write to 
his father, to announce to him the revolution in his 
wishes, the consummation of his hopes. Soon, very 
soon, he trusted that he should hail his native cliffs, a 
reclaimed wanderer, with a matured mind, and a con- 
tented spirit ; his sorrows forgotten, his misanthropy 
laid aside. 


IT was about a week after the departure of the Baron, 
that two young Englishmen, who had been College 
friends of Mr. St. George, arrived at the Baths. 
These were Mr. Anthony St. Leger, and Mr. 
Adolphus St. John. In the academic shades of 
Christchurch, these three gentlemen had, when 
youths, succeeded to the admiring envy of all under 
graduates, and to the heavy cost both of their purses 


and their constitutions, in a faint imitation of the 
second-rate debauchery of a metropolis. At Oxford, 
that venerable nurse of wit and humour, where fun, 
like their sermons, though orthodox is rather dull, 
a really facetious fellow of New College, had dubbed 
these infant libertines * All Saints.' Among their 
youthful companions they bore the more martial style 
of * The Three Champions,' St. George, St. John, and 
St. Anthony. 

St. John and St. Anthony had just completed the 
grand tour ; and after passing the Easter at Rome, 
had returned through the Tyrol from Italy. Since 
then, they had travelled over most parts of Germany ; 
and now, in the beginning of July, found them- 
selves at the Baths of Ems. Two years travel had 
not produced any very beneficial effect on either of 
these sainted personages. They left the University 
with empty heads, and vitiated minds. A season in 
London introduced them to the life of which they had 
previously only read and heard in the accounts of 
lying novels, and the boastings of worn-out roues ; 
and they felt disgust at their college career, only 
because they could now compare their former crude 
dissipation, with the resources of the most miraculous 
of modern cities. Travelling, as they had done, with 
minds utterly incapable either of observation or re- 
flection, they had gained by visiting the capitals of all 
Europe, only a due acquaintance with the vices of 
each ; and the only difference that could be observed 
in their conduct on their return, was, that their affec- 
tation was rather more disgusting, because it was 
more obtrusive. What capital companions for old 
Sherborne ! 

4 Corpo di Bacco ! my champion, who ever thought 
of meeting thee, thou holy saint ! By the eye-brow 




of Venus, my spirit rejoiceth!' exclaimed St. 
Anthony, whose peculiar affectation was an adoption 
in English of the Italian oaths. 

' This is the sweetest spot, St. Anthony, that we 
have found since we left Paradiso ; that is, St. 
George, in the vulgar tongue, since we quitted Italia. 
" Italia ! oh, Italia !" I forget the rest, probably you 
remember it. Certainly a most sweet spot this, quite 
a Caspar!' 

Art was the peculiar affectation of St. John, he 
was indeed, quite a patron of the belle Arti had 
scattered his orders through the studios of most of 
the celebrated sculptors of Italy, and spoke on all 
subjects and all things, only with a view to their cap- 
ability of forming materiel for the painter. Accord- 
ing to the school of which Mr. St. John was an 
humble disciple, the only use of the human passions 
is, that they produce situations for the historical 
painter ; and Nature, according to these votaries of 
the TO KaXov, is only to be valued as affording hints 
for the more perfect conceptions of a Claude or a 

' By the girdle of Venus, a devilish fine woman!' 
exclaimed St. Anthony. 

* A splendid bit ! ' ejaculated St. John ; < touched 
in with freedom a grand tournure a great gout 
in the swell of the neck. What a study for Retsch !' 

' In the name of the Graces, who is it, mio Santo ?' 
4 Ay! name, name la bellissima SignoraS 

* The " fine bit," St. John, is my sister.' 
< The devil!' 

c DiavoloT 

* Will you introduce us, most holy man ?' 

This request from both, simultaneously arrangino- 
their mustachios. 


The two Saints were accordingly, in due time, in- 
troduced ; but finding the attention of Violet Fane 
always engrossed, and receiving some not very en- 
couraging responses from Lady Madeleine, they 
voted her ladyship cursedly satirical ; and passing a 
general censure on the annoying coldness of English 
women, they were in four-and-twenty hours attached 
to the suite of the Miss Fitzlooms, to whom they 
were introduced by St. George as his most particular 
friends, and were received with the most flattering 

* By the aspect of Diana ! fine girls, and some 
blood in them ! ' swore St. Anthony. 

' Truly most gorgeous colouring ! quite Venetian ! 
Aurelia is a perfect Giorgione!' said St. John. 

* Madeleine,' said St. George, one morning to his 
sister ; ' have you any objection to make up a party 
with the Fitzlooms to pass a day at Nassau? You 
know we have often talked of it ; and as Violet is so 
well now, and the weather so delightful, there surely 
can be no objection. The Fitzlooms are very agree- 
able people ; and though you don't admire the Santi, 
still, upon my word, when you know them a little 
more, you'll find them very pleasant fellows; and 
they're extremely good-natured ; and just the fellows 
for such a party ; and I'll take care that they don't 
slang Mr. Sherborne, whom, by the bye, Mr. St. John 
very much admires. He says he'd make a grand 
head for Ludovico Caracci something very Bolog- 
nese in the grey tints of his forehead. Do not give 
me a refusal ! I've set my mind upon your joining 
the party. Pray nod assent thank you thank you. 
Now I must go and arrange every thing. Let's see 
there are seven Fitzlooms ; for we can't count on 
less than two horrid boys ; yourself, Mr. Sherborne, 


Grey, Violet, and myself, five the Santi quite 
enough quite enough a most delightful party. 
Half a dozen servants, and as many donkeys, will 
manage the provisions. Then three light carriages 
will take us all. " By the wand of Mercury!" as St. 
Anthony would vow, most admirably planned ! ' 

4 By the breath of Zephyr ! a most lovely day, 
Miss Fane,' said St. Anthony, on the morning of the 
intended excursion. 

f Quite a Claude!' said St. John. 

' Almost as beautiful as an Italian winter's day, Mr. 
St. Leger?' asked Miss Fane. 

* Hardly, hardly ! ' said St. Anthony, with a serious 
air ; for he imagined the question to be quite 

' Lady Madeleine, I cannot take my eyes off that 
venerable countenance!' said St. John, speaking of 
Mr. Sherborne. ' There are some flesh-tints on the 
higher cheek, which almost make me fancy myself in 
the gallery at Bologna. He doesn't rouge now, does 
he? You may speak perfectly in confidence. I 
assure your ladyship that nothing shall transpire ; 
only I'm very curious to know; such tints I never 
saw before!' 

1 Really, Mr. St. John,' said her ladyship, smiling ; 
* I regret very much that I am not initiated in the 
mysteries of Mr. Sherborne's toilet ; but my uncle is 
a very candid man, and I have no doubt he will con- 
fess in a minute if he's guilty of making up ; suppose 
you ask him.' 

' Why, no ; at his age, people of his country have 
odd prejudices. He may not make up ; and he 
might feel a little offended. To say the truth, I 
think it is au naturel. There is a grey tint under the 
eye, which I don't think that any modern colours 



could have produced perfectly Ludovico, perfectly. 
If he do make up, I should like very much to know 
where he gets his colour : that's a secret, Lady Made- 
leine, which seems to be lost for ever. I was talking 
the other day to Benvenuti, the great Florentine 
painter, about that very point : " Benvenuti," said I 
* a very gentlemanly man is Benvenuti. It has 
often struck me, I don't know whether it has your 
ladyship probably it may have ; that all men of 
genius are very gentlemanly. For instance, take all 
the artists of ancient and modern times. We know 
very little of Apelles ; yet we do know that he was 
the intimate friend of Alexander the Great : and all 
painters who are intimate friends of crowned heads, 
and who are in the habit of going to court, are, I have 
remarked, very gentlemanly. Now, for instance, can 
you possibly meet with a more gentlemanly man than 
Sir Thomas Lawrence? and Benvenuti, too, as I 
said before, Benvenuti is a very gentlemanly man. I 
was saying to him one day, as I mentioned 
" Cavaliero!" for I need not tell your ladyship that 
the great artist has the honour of being a Knight 
of ' 

' Thrice holy man ! ' halloed out St. Anthony to St. 
John ; ' thrice holy man ! the champion wishes to 
know whether you have arranged about the malvoisie. 
Miss Fane has decided for the malvoisie. By the 
body of Bacchus, a right good liquor ! ' 

* Lady Madeleine, will you excuse the anecdote of 
Benvenuti at present ? the truth is, I am butler, and 
your charming conversation is making me, I fear, 
neglect my duties.' So saying, ran off the Saint. 

The carriages are at the door; into the first 
ascended Mrs. Fitzloom, two daughters and the 
travelling Saints. The second bore Lady Madeleine, 
** 433 


Mr. Fitzloom, and his two sons ; the third division 
was commanded by Mr. Sherborne, and was formed 
of St. George and Aurelia Fitzloom, Miss Fane, and 

Away, away rolled the carriages, the day was 
beautiful, the sky was without a cloud, and a mild 
breeze prevented the heat of the sun from being over- 
powering. All were in high spirits ; for St. George 
had made a capital master of the ceremonies, and had 
arranged the company in the carriages to their mutual 
satisfaction. St. Anthony swore, by the soul of 
Psyche ! that Augusta Fitzloom was an angel ; and 
St. John was in equal raptures with Araminta, who 
had an expression about the eyes which reminded 
him of Titian's Flora. Mrs. Fitzloom's natural 
silence did not disturb the uninterrupted jargon of 
the Santi, whose affectation, slang, and foppery, 
elicited loud and continued approbation from the fair 
sisters. The mother sat admiring these sprigs of 
noble trees. The young Fitzlooms, in crimson 
cravats, conversed with Lady Madeleine with a de- 
lightful military air ; and their happy parent, as he 
gazed upon them with satisfied affection, internally 
promised them both a commission in a crack regi- 
ment. Each of the boys already imagined that Lady 
Madeleine was in love with him ; and her ladyship 
being convinced that all were happy, did not regret 
the- absence of those she really did love, but was 
amused ; even Mr. Sherborne was contented, and did 
not complain. Had he been put in the same carriage 
with those fools, he really did not think that he 
should have been able to get on. It showed St. 
George's sense, making a different arrangement ; and 
he must say, that though they did sometimes dis- 
agree, he had no right to complain of the general 



behaviour of St. George towards him. This was said 
with a bow to Miss Aurelia Fitzloom ; need I say 
that Violet and Vivian were satisfied with the arrange- 
ment ? 

The road from Ems to Nassau winds along the 
banks of the Lahn, through two leagues of most de- 
lightful scenery ; at the end of which, springing up 
from the peak of a bold and richly wooded mountain, 
the lofty tower of the ancient castle of Nassau meets 
your view. Winding walks round the sides of the 
mountain, lead through all the varieties of sylvan 
scenery, and command in all points the most magni- 
ficent views of the surrounding country. These 
finally bring you to the old castle, whose spacious 
chambers, though now choked up with masses of grey 
ruin, or covered with underwood, still bear witness to 
the might of their former lord ; the powerful Baron 
whose sword gained for his posterity a throne. Here 
it was, by the massy keep, ' all tenantless, save to the 
crannying wind,' that Mr. Sherborne delivered to a 
youthful auditory, who, seated on the fragments of 
the ancient walls, rested after the toils of the ascent, 
the following lecture on Gothic architecture. 

On second thoughts, I shall keep it for Mr. Col- 
burn's magazine. The Misses Fitzloom, with that 
vivid genius for which young unmarried ladies are 
celebrated, entered with the most delightful enthusi- 
asm into all the interest of Mr. Sherborne's discourse. 
In a few minutes they perfectly understood all the 
agitated questions which had puzzled the architects 
of all ages, and each had her separate solution of 
mysteries, which never can be solved. How delight- 
ful is this elegant and enraptured ignorance! How 
decisive is the opinion of a young lady who has 
studied architecture in the elevations of the Regent's 



Park, on the controversy of the round arch, and the 
pointed style! How exquisite their animated tattle 
about mullions, spandrils, and trefoils ! 

But Mr. Sherborne was delighted with his pupils, 
and all seemed happy ; none happier than Violet 
Fane. Never did she look so beautiful as to-day 
never were her spirits so animated never had she 
boasted that her pulse beat more melodious music, 
nor her lively blood danced a more healthful measure. 
After examining all the antique chambers of the 
castle, and discovering, as they flattered themselves, 
secret passages, and dark dungeons, and hidden doors, 
they left this interesting relic of the middle ages ; 
and soon, by a gradual descent through the most 
delightful shrubberies, they again found themselves 
at the bottom of the valley. Here they visited the 
modern Chateau of Baron von Stein, one of the most 
enlightened and able politicians that Germany has 
ever produced. As Minister of Prussia, he com- 
menced those reforms which the illustrious Harden- 
berg perfected. For upwards of five centuries the 
family of Stein have retained their territorial posses- 
sions in the valley of the Lahn. Their family castle, 
at present a ruin, and formerly a fief of the house of 
Nassau, is now only a picturesque object in the 
pleasure-grounds of the present lord. 

The noon had passed some hours, before the de- 
lighted wanderers complained of fatigue, and by that 
time they found themselves in a pleasant green glade 
on the skirts of the forest of Nassau. It was nearly 
environed by mountains, covered with hanging 
woods, which shaded the beautiful valley, and gave 
it the appearance of a sylvan amphitheatre. From a 
rocky cleft in these green mountains, a torrent, dash- 
ing down with impetuous force, and whose fall was 



almost concealed by the cloud of spray which it ex- 
cited, gave birth to a small and gentle river ; whose 
banks were fringed with the most beautiful trees, 
which prevented the sun's darts from piercing its 
coldness, by bowing their fair heads over its waters. 
From their extending branches, Nature's choristers 
sent forth many a lovely lay 

* Of God's high praise, and of their loves' sweet teen.' 

Near the banks of this river, the servants, under 
the active direction of Essper George, had prepared 
some refreshments for the party. The cloth had been 
laid with great neatness on a raised work of wood 
and turf ; and rustic seats of the same material sur- 
rounded the rude table. All kinds of cold meats, and 
all kinds of pasties, venison, pheasants, plovers, 
rabbits, pickled fish, prawns, and craw fish, greeted 
the ravished eyes of the wearied band of foresters. 
July is not a month for eating ; but, nevertheless, in 
Germany we are somewhat consoled for the want of 
the curious varieties of cookery, by the exhilarating 
presence of white young partridges, delicious duck- 
lings, and most tender leverets. Then there were all 
sorts of forced meats, and stuffed birds. You com- 
menced with a pompous display of unnecessary 
science, to extract for a famished fair one the wing and 
merrythought of a fairer chicken when lo, and be- 
hold ! the facile knife sunk without an effort into the 
plump breast, and the unresisting bird discharged a 
cargo of rich stuffed balls, of the most fascinating 
flavour. Then July, above all, is the season for 
fruits ; and though few of the Rhenish grapes were 
yet ripe, still money had procured some plates of the 
red and rich Asmanhausens ; and the refreshing 
strawberry, the luscious peach, the grateful apricot, 



the thrilling nectarine, and above all, the peerless 
pine-apple were not wanting. Shall I forget the 
piquant currant, and the mellow gooseberry ? Pom- 
ona forbid! Humble fruits I love you, and once 
loved you more! 

* Well ! ' said Violet Fane, * I never will be a 
member of an adventurous party like the present, of 
which St. George is not manager ; this is admir- 

* I must not take the whole credit upon myself, 
Violet ; St. John is butler, and St. Leger my vice- 

' Well, I can't praise Mr. St. John, till I've tasted 
the malvoisie which he has promised ; but as for the 
other part of the entertainment Mr. St. Leger, I'm 
sure, this is a temptation which it would be a sin even 
in St. Anthony to withstand.' 

< By the body of Bacchus, very good ! ' swore Mr. 
St. Leger. 

' These mountains,' said Mr. St. John, * remind 
me of one of Nicolo Poussin's cool valleys. The 
party, indeed, give it a different character quite a 

1 Now, Mrs. Fitzloom,' said St. George, who was 
quite in his element ; t let me recommend a little of 
this pike? Lady Madeleine, I've sent you some 
lamb. Miss Fitzloom, I hope St. Anthony is taking 
care of you. Wrightson! plates to Mr. St. Leger. 
Holy man, and much beloved ! send that beef to Mr. 
Sherborne. Araminta, some poulet? Grey has 
helped you, Violet? Aurelia, my dear, some part- 
ridge ? William Pitt Fitzloom, I leave you to your- 
self. George Canning Fitzloom, take care of the 
ladies near you. Essper George! where's Essper 
George ? St. John, who is your deputy in the wine 



department? Wrightson! bring those long green 
bottles out of the river, and put the champaigne 
underneath the willow. Will your ladyship take 
some light claret? Mrs. Fitzloom, you must use 
your tumbler; nothing but tumblers allowed, by 
Miss Fane's particular request!' 

* St. George ! thou holy man ! ' said Miss Fane ; 
* methinks you are very impertinent. You shall not 
be my patron saint, if you go on so.' 

For the next hour there was nothing heard save the 
calling of servants ; the rattling of knives and forks ; 
the drawing of corks ; and continued bursts of 
laughter, which were not occasioned by any brilliant 
observations, either of the Saints, or any other per- 
sons ; but merely the result of an exuberance of 
spirits on the part of every one present. At last the 
voice of St. Anthony was heard. 

' Mr Sherborne, will you wine?' 

' Sir ! I don't understand you,' answered the old 
gentleman. A cloud was on his brow. 

{ Oh ! save my uncle from exploding, Mr. Grey ! 
for heaven's sake, put out his passion. If he do not 
take some liquid immediately, I'm sure he must go 
off in a rage. Holy St. Anthony has beeri talking 
" slang." Uncle ! Mr Sherborne ! Mr. St. Leger 
wishes to know whether he may have the honour of 
taking wine with you. You don't seem to under- 
stand him.' 

* No ; nor any body else.' 

' Old Chrononhotonthologos seems as crusty as a 
bottle of his own undrinkable port,' whispered St. 
Anthony to Miss Fitzloom, who was delighted with 
this brilliant sally. < I wonder what's the use of 
these boring old uncles ! ' Miss Fitzloom laughed still 
more at a remark which was still more brilliant. 



4 A magnificent study, that old uncle of St. 
George's!' whispered St. John to Araminta. * I wish 
I could get him to sit. I dare say there's some poor 
devil or an artist at the Baths, who'd touch him in 
very prettily with black chalk. I must ask the old 
man. Let me give you a little more pheasant.' 

* Well, Aurelia ! ' said Lady Madeleine, ' do you 
prefer our present mode of life to feasting in an old 
hall, covered with banners and battered shields, and 
surrounded by mysterious corridors and dark 
dungeons.' Aurelia was so flattered by the notice 
of Lady Madeleine, that she made her no an- 
swer ; probably because she was intent on a plover's 

e gg- 

' I think we might all retire to this valley,' said 

Miss Fane, 4 and revive the old feudal times with 
great success. St. George might take us to Nassau 
Castle, and you, Mr. Fitzloom, might refortify the 
old tower of Stein. With two sons, however, who 
are about to enter the Guards, I'm afraid we must be 
your vassals. Then what should we do? We 
couldn't have wood parties every day ; I suppose we 
should get tired of each other. No ! that does seem 
impossible ; don't you all think so ?' 

Omnes, ' Impossible, impossible!' 

4 We must, however, have some regular pursuit, 
some cause of constant excitement, some perpetual 
source of new emotions. New ideas of course, we 
must give up ; there would be no going to London 
for the season, for new opinions to astound country 
cousins on our return. Some pursuit must be in- 
vented ; we all must have something to do. I have 
it, I have it! St. George shall be a tyrant!' 

< I'm very much obliged to you, Violet.' 

< Yes ! a bloody, unprincipled, vindictive, remorse- 



less tyrant, with a long black beard ; I can't tell how 
long ! about twenty thousand times longer than Mr. 
St. Leger's mustachios.' 

' By the beard of Jove!' swore St. Anthony, as he 
started from his seat, and arranged with his thumb 
and forefinger the delicate Albanian tuft of his upper 
lip ; < By the beard of Jove, Miss Fane, I'm obliged 
to you!' 

* Well then,' continued Violet, < St. George being a 
tyrant, Lady Madeleine must be an unhappy, illused, 
persecuted woman!' 

'Now, Violet, my dear! do be calm, do restrain 
yourself ! ' 

' An unhappy, illused, persecuted woman, living on 
black bread and green water, in an unknown dungeon. 
My part shall be to discover her imprisonment. 
Sounds of strange music attract my attention to a 
part of the castle which I have not before frequented. 
There I shall distinctly hear a female voice chaunting 
the " Bridesmaids' Chorus," with Erard's double 
pedal accompaniment. By the aid of the Confessors 
of the two families two drinking, rattling, imperti- 
nent, most corrupt, and most amusing friars : to wit 
our sainted friends ' 

Here both Mr. St. Leger, and Mr. St. John bowed 
low to Miss Fane. 

' A most lively personage is Miss Fane,' whispered 
St. Anthony to his neighbour Miss Fitzloom, 
{ great style ! ' 

* Most amusing, delightful girl great style 
rather a display to-day, I think.' 

4 Oh, decidedly ! and devilish personal too devil- 
ish ; some people wouldn't like it. I've no doubt 
she'll say something about you next.' 

{ Oh ! I shall be very surprised, indeed, if she does, 


very surprised indeed ! It may be very well to you, 
but Miss Fane must be aware ' 

Before this pompous sentence could be finished, 
an incident occurred which prevented Miss Fane 
from proceeding with her allotment of characters, and 
rendered unnecessary the threatened indignation of 
Miss Fitzloom. 

Miss Fane, as we mentioned, suddenly ceased 
speaking ; the eyes of all were turned in the direc- 
tion in which she was gazing gazing as if she had 
seen a ghost. 

* What are you looking up at, Violet ?' asked St. 

* Didn't you see any thing ? didn't any of you see 
any thing?' 

c None none none ! ' 

4 Mr. Grey, surely you must have seen it!' 

* No ; I saw nothing.' 

c It could not be fancy impossible ! I saw it dis- 
tinctly. I cannot be in a dream. See there! there 
again, on that topmost branch. See! see! it 

Some odd shrill sounds, uttered in the voice of a 
Pulcinello, attracted the notice of them all, and lo! 
high in the air, behind a lofty chesnut tree, the figure 
of a Pulcinello did appear, hopping and vaulting in 
the unsubstantial air. Now it sent forth another 
shrill piercing sound, and now, with both its hands, it 
patted and complacently stroked its ample paunch ; 
dancing all the time, with unremitting activity, and 
wagging its queer head at the astounded guests. 

' Who, what can it be ?' cried all. The Misses 
Fitzloom shrieked, and the Santi seemed quite 

4 Who, what can it be ?' 


Ere time could be given for any one to hazard a 
conjecture, the figure had advanced from behind the 
trees, and had spanned in an instant the festal board, 
with two enormous stilts, on which they now per- 
ceived it was mounted. The Misses Fitzloom 
shrieked again. The figure imitated their cries in his 
queer voice, and gradually raising one enormous stilt 
up into the air, stood only on one support, which was 
planted behind the lovely Araminta. 

c Oh ! inimitable Essper George ! exclaimed Violet 

Here Signer Punch commenced a chanson, which 
he executed in the tone peculiar to his character, and 
in a style which drew applauses from all ; and then, 
with a hop, step, and a jump, he was again behind the 
chesnut tree. In a moment he advanced without his 
stilts, towards the table. Here, on the turf, he again 
commenced his antics ; kicking his nose with his right 
foot, and his hump with his left one ; executing the 
most splendid somersets, and cutting all species of 
capers ; and never ceasing for a moment from per- 
forming all his movements to the inspiring music of 
his own melodious voice. At last, jumping up im- 
mensely high in the air, he fell as if all his joints were 
loosened, and the Misses Fitzloom, imagining that 
his bones were really broken, shrieked again. But 
now Essper began the wonderful performance of a 
dead body possessed by a devil ; and in a minute his 
shattered corpse, apparently without the assistance of 
any of its members, began to jump, and move about 
the ground with the most miraculous rapidity. At 
length it disappeared behind the chesnut tree. 

' Grey ! ' said St. George ; < we owe all this timely 
entertainment to you. I really think it is the most 
agreeable .day I ever passed in all my life.' 



< Oh, decidedly!' said St. Anthony. 'St. John, 
you remember, our party to Paestum with Lady 
Calabria M'Crater, and the Marquess of Agrigentum. 
It was nothing to this! Nothing! nothing! Do 
you know I thought that rather dull.' 

4 Yes, dull, dull; too elaborate; too highly fin- 
ished ; nothing of the pittore improvisator e. A 
party of this kind should be more sketchy in its style ; 
the outline more free, and less detail.' 
J3i * This is all very well for you, young folks,' said 
Mr. Sherborne, c and Essper is certainly a clever 
knave ; but my dear young friends, if you had had 
the good fortune of living fifty years ago, when the 
first Scaramouch that I remember appeared in Lon- 
don, then you might have laughed. As it is, this is 
all very well of Essper ; but ' Here Mr Sherborne 
jumped on his chair, and suddenly stopped. A great 
green monkey was seated opposite to him, imitating 
with ludicrous fidelity his energetic action. The 
laugh was universal. The monkey, with one 
bound, jumped over Mr. Sherborne's head and dis- 

* Essper is coming out to-day,' said Vivian, to Miss 
Fane, * after a long, and I venture to say, painful for- 
bearance. However, Ihope you'll excuse him. It 
seems to amuse us.' 

* Amuse us ! I think it's delightful. See ! here he 
comes again.' 

He now appeared in his original costume ; the one 
in which Vivian first met him at the fair. Bowing 
very respectfully to the company, he threw his hand 
carelessly over his mandolin, and having tried the 
melody of its strings, sang with great taste, and a 
sweet voice sweeter, from its contrast with its pre- 
vious shrill tones, a very pretty romance. All 



applauded him very warmly, and no one more so than 
Violet Fane. 

* Ah! inimitable Essper George, how can we suf- 
ficiently thank you ! How admirably he plays ! and 
his voice is quite beautiful. Oh ! couldn't we dance ? 
wouldn't it be delightful ; and he could play on his 
guitar. Think of the delicious turf!' 

Omnes < Delightful ! delightful ! delightful ! ' 
they rose from table. 

4 Violet, my dear,' asked Lady Madeleine, * what 
are you going to do ?' 

' By the toe of Terpsichore ! as Mr. St. Leger 
would say, I am going to dance.' 

' But remember, dearest, to-day you have done so 
much! let us be wise let us be moderate ; though 
you feel so much better, still think what a change 
to-day has been from your usual habits!' 

{ But, dearest Lady Madeleine, think of dancing on 
the turf, and I feel so well so ' 

* Oh ! let the dear creature dance if she likes,' said 
Mr. Sherborne : c my opinion is, that dancing never 
does a young woman any harm. Who you'll get to 
dance with you though,' turning to the Misses Fitz- 
loom, * I can't tell ; as to what the young men of the 
present day call dancing ' 

' By the Graces ! I am for the waltz,' said St. 

' It has certainly a very free touch to recommend 
it,' said St. John. 

* No, no,' said Violet ; < let us all join in a country 
dance. Mr. Sherborne, shall I introduce you to a 

< Ah ! you little angel,' said the delighted old man ; 
* you look just like your dear mother, that you do!' 
1 We staid old personages do not dance,' said Lady 


Madeleine ; ' and therefore I recommend you a quad- 

The quadrille was soon formed : Violet made up 
for not dancing with Vivian, at the Archduke's. She 
was in the most animated spirits, and kept up a suc- 
cessful rivalry with Mr. St. Leger, who evidently 
prided himself, as Mr. Fitzloom observed, * on his 
light fantastic toe.' Now he pirouetted like Paul, 
and now he attitudinized like Albert ; and now Violet 
Fane eclipsed all his exertions by her inimitable imita- 
tions of Ronzi Vestris's rushing and arrowy manner. 
St. Anthony, in despair, but quite delighted, revealed 
a secret which had been taught him by a Spanish 
dancer at Milan ; but then Violet Fane vanquished 
him for ever, with the pas de Zephyr of the exquisite 
Fanny Bias. 

The day was fast declining when the carriages ar- 
rived ; the young people were in no humour to return ; 
and as, when they had once entered the carriage, the 
day seemed finished for ever, they proposed walking 
part of the way home. Lady Madeleine made little 
objection to Violet joining the party, as she feared 
after the exertion that Miss Fane had been making, a 
drive in an open carriage would be dangerous ; and 
yet the walk was too long, but all agreed that it would 
be impossible to shorten it ; and, as Violet declared 
that she was not the least fatigued, the lesser evil was 
therefore chosen. The carriages rolled off ; at about 
half way from Ems, the two empty ones were to wait 
for the walking party. Lady Madeleine smiled with 
fond affection, as she waved her hand to Violet the 
moment before she was out of sight. 

4 And now,' said St. George ; c good people all, 
instead of returning by the same road, it strikes me, 
that there must be a way through this little wood 



you see there is an excellent path. Before the sun has 
set, we shall have got through it, and it will bring us 
out I have no doubt, by the old cottage which you 
observed, Grey, when we came along. I saw a gate, and 
path there just where we first got sight or Nassau 
castle there can be no doubt about it. You see it's 
a regular right-angle, and besides varying the walk, 
we shall at least gain a quarter of an hour, which, 
after all, as we have to walk near three miles, is an 
object. It's quite clear quite clear : If I've a head 
for any thing, it's for finding my way.' 

* I think you've a head for every thing,' said 
Aurelia Fitzloom, in a soft sentimental whisper ; { I'm 
sure we owe all our happiness to-day to you!' 

' If I have a head for every thing, I have a heart 
only for one person!' 

As every one wished to be convinced, no one 
offered any argument in opposition to St. George's 
view of the case ; and some were already in the 

* St. George, St. George,' said Violet Fane, I don't 
like walking in the wood so late ; pray come back.' 

'Oh, nonsense, Violet! come, come. If you 
don't like to come, you can walk by the road you'll 
meet us round by the gate it's only five minutes 
walk.' Ere he had finished speaking, the rest were 
in the wood, and some had advanced. Vivian 
strongly recommended Violet not to join them ; he 
was sure that Lady Madeleine would not approve it 
he was sure that it was very dangerous extremely 
dangerous ; and, by the bye, while he was talking, 
which way had they gone ? he didn't see them. He 
halloed all answered and fifty thousand echoes be- 
sides. < We certainly had better go by the road we 

shall lose our way if we try to follow them ; nothing 



is so puzzling as walking in woods we had much 
better keep to the road.' So by the road they went. 

The Sun had already sunk behind the mountains, 
whose undulating forms were thrown into dark 
shadow against the crimson sky. The thin crescent 
of the new moon floated over the eastern hills, whose 
deep woods glowed with the rosy glories of twilight. 
Over the peak of a purple mountain, glittered the 
solitary star of Evening. As the sun dropped, uni- 
versal silence seemed to pervade the whole face of 
Nature. The voice of the birds was stilled ; the 
breeze, which had refreshed them during the day, 
died away, as if its office were now completed ; and 
none of the dark sounds and sights of hideous Night 
yet dared to triumph over the death of Day. Unseen 
were the circling wings of the fell bat ; unheard the 
screech of the waking owl ; silent the drowsy hum of 
the shade-born beetle ! What heart has not acknow- 
ledged the influence of this hour the sweet and 
soothing hour of twilight! the hour of love, the 
hour of adoration, the hour of rest! when we think 
of those we love, only to regret that we have not loved 
more dearly ; when we remember our enemies only 
to forgive them! 

And Vivian, and his beautiful companion owned 
the magic of this hour, as all must do by silence. 
No word was spoken, yet is silence sometimes a 
language. They gazed, and gazed again, and their 
full spirits held due communion with the starlit sky, 
and the mountains, and the woods, and the soft 
shadows of the increasing moon. Oh! who can 
describe what the o'ercharged spirit feels at this 
sacred hour, when we almost lose the consciousness 
of existence, and our souls seem to struggle to pierce 
futurity! In the forests of the mysterious Oden- 

44 8 


wald, in the solitudes of the Bergstrasse, had Vivian 
at this hour often found consolation for a bruised 
spirit often in adoring Nature had forgotten man. 
But now, when he had never felt Nature's influence 
more powerful ; when he had never forgotten man, 
and man's world more thoroughly ; when he was ex- 
periencing emotions, which, though undefinable, he 
felt to be new ; he started when he remembered that 
all this was in the presence of a human being ! Was 
it Hesperus he gazed upon, or something else that 
glanced brighter than an Evening star ? Even as he 
thought that his gaze was fixed on the countenance 
of Nature, he found that his eyes rested on the face 
of Nature's loveliest daughter! 

'Violet! dearest Violtt!' 

As in some delicious dream, the sleeper is awak- 
ened from his bliss by the sound of his own rapturous 
voice ; so was Vivian roused by these words from 
his reverie, and called back to the world which he had 
forgotten. But ere a moment had passed, he was 
pouring forth in a rapid voice, and incoherent man- 
ner, such words as men speak only once. He spoke 
of his early follies his misfortunes his misery of 
his matured views his settled principles his plans 
his prospects his hopes his happiness his 
bliss : and when he had ceased, he listened, in his 
turn, to some small still words, which made him the 
happiest of human beings. He bent down he 
kissed the soft silken cheek which now he could call 
his own. Her hand was in his ; her head sank upon 
his breast. Suddenly she clung to him with a strong 
grasp. < Violet ! my own, my dearest ; you are 
overcome. I have been rash, I have been imprudent. 
Speak, speak, my beloved! say you are not ill!' 

She spoke not, but clung to him with a fearful 
2F 449 


strength her head still upon his breast her full 
eyes closed. In the greatest alarm, he raised her off 
the ground, and bore her to the river side. Water 
might revive her. But when he tried to lay her a 
moment on the bank, she clung to him gasping, as a 
sinking person clings to a stout swimmer. He leant 
over her ; he did not attempt to disengage his arms ; 
and, by degrees, by very slow degrees, her grasp 
loosened. At last her arms gave way and fell by her 
side, and her eyes partly opened. 

* Thank God ! thank God ! Violet, my own, my 
beloved, say you are better!' U^ 

She answered not evidently she did not know 
him evidently she did not see him. A film was 
on her sight, and her eye was glassy. He rushed 
to the water-side, and in a moment he had sprinkled 
her temples, now covered with a cold dew. Her 
pulse beat not her circulation seemed suspended. 
He rubbed the palms of her hands he covered her 
delicate feet with his coat ; and then rushing up the 
bank into the road, he shouted with frantic cries on 
all sides. No one came, no one was near. Again, 
with a cry of fearful anguish, he shouted as if an 
hyaena were feeding on his vitals. No sound: no 
answer. The nearest cottage he remembered was 
above a mile off. He dared not leave her. Again 
he rushed down to the water-side. Her eyes were 
still open still fixed. Her mouth also was no 
longer closed. Her hand was stiff her heart had 
ceased to beat. He tried with the warmth of his 
own body to revive her. He shouted he wept 
he prayed. All, all in vain. Again he was in the 
road again shouting like an insane being. There 
was a sound. Hark! It was but the screech of an 




Once more at the river-side once more bending 
over her with starting eyes once more the attentive 
ear listening for the soundless breath. No sound! 
not even a sigh! Oh! what would he have given 
for her shriek of anguish! No change had occurred 
in her position, but the lower part of her face had 
fallen ; and there was a general appearance which 
struck him with awe. Her body was quite cold : 
her limbs stiffened. He gazed, and gazed, and 
gazed. He bent over her with stupor, rather than 
grief stamped on his features. It was very slowly 
that the dark thought came over his mind very 
slowly that the horrible truth seized upon his soul. 
He gave a loud shriek, and fell on the lifeless body of 


>m 33i!o i. . tj: atom v 

;\ ari) aiom MHO 2^3 gnimiR rfilw *-; 

.08 O T /[ ;!jj;.'3-rJ ; ^dt toi vHiinoVif t 



THE green and bowery Summer had passed away. 
It was midnight when two horsemen pulled up their 
steeds beneath a wide oak ; which, with other lofty 
trees, skirted the side of a winding road in an exten- 
sive forest in the south of Germany. 

' By heavens ! ' said one, who apparently was the 
master c we must even lay our cloaks I think under 
this oak ; for the road winds again, and assuredly 
cannot lead now to our village.' 

* A starlit sky in Autumn, can scarcely be the 
fittest curtain for one so weak as your Highness. I 
should recommend travelling on, if we keep on our 
horses' backs till dawn.' 

4 But if we are travelling in a directly contrary way 
to our voiturier honest as we may suppose him to 
be, if he find in the morning no paymaster for his job, 
he may with justice make free with our baggage. 
And I shall be unusually mistaken if the road we are 
now pursuing does not lead back to the city.' 

* City, town, or village, your Highness must sleep 
under no forest tree. Let us ride on. It will be 
hard if we do not find some huntsman's or ranger's 
cottage ; and for aught we know a neat snug village 

some comfortable old manor-house, which has 


been in the family for two centuries ; and where, 
with God's blessing, they may chance to have wine 
as old as the bricks. I know not how your Highness 
may feel, but a ten hours' ride when I was only pre- 
pared for half the time, and that too in an Autumn 
night, makes me somewhat desirous of renewing my 
acquaintance with the kitchen-fire.' 

' 1 could join you in a glass of hock and a slice of 
venison, I confess, my good fellow; but in a noc- 
turnal ride I am no longer your match. However, 
if you think it best, we'll prick on our steeds for 
another hour. If it be only for them, I'm sure we 
must soon stop.' 

* Ay ! do, Sir ; and put your cloak well round you 
all is for the best. Your Highness, I guess, is no 
Sabbath-born child?' 

* That am I not but how would that make our 
plight worse than it is? Should we be farther off 

4 Nearer nearer, perhaps, than you imagine ; for 
we should then have a chance of sharing the spoils of 
the Spirit Hunter.' 

* Ah ! Essper, is it so ?' 

' Truly, yes, Sir ; and were either of us a Sabbath- 
born child, by holy cross ! I would not give much for 
our chance of a down bed this night.' 

Here a great horned owl flew across the road. 

' Were I in the north,' said Essper, < I would sing 
an Ave Mary against the STUT OZEL.' 

* What call you that ?' asked Vivian. 

' 'Tis the great bird, Sir ; the great horned owl, 
that always flies before the Wild Hunter. And 
truly, Sir, I have passed through many forests in my 
time, but never yet saw I one where I should sooner 
expect to hear a midnight bugle. If you'll allow me, 



Sir, I'll ride by your side. Thank God, at least, it's 
not the Walpurgis night!' 

' I wish to Heaven it were ! ' said Vivian, ' and that 
we were on the Brocken. It must be highly amus- 


* Hush ! hush ! hush ! it's lucky we're not in the 
Hartz but we know not where we are, nor who at 
this moment may be behind us.' 

And here Essper began pouring forth a liturgy of 
his own half Catholic, and half Calvinistic, quite in 
character with the creed of the country through which 
they were travelling. 

' My horse has stumbled,' continued Essper, * and 
your s, Sir, is he not shying ? There's a confounded 
cloud over the moon but I've no sight in the dark 
if that mass before you be not a devil's-stone. The 
Lord have mercy upon our sinful souls ! ' 

* Peace ! peace ! Essper,' said Vivian, who was sur- 
prised to find him really alarmed ; ' peace ! peace ! I 
see nothing but a block of granite, no uncommon 
sight in a German forest.' 

* It is a devil-stone, I tell you, Sir there has been 
some church here, which he has knocked down in the 
night. Look! look! is it the moss-people that I 
see ! As sure as I'm a hungry sinner, the Wild One 
is out a-hunting to-nieht.' 

ir ^2 

* More luck for us, if we meet him. His dogs, as 
you say, may gain us a supper. I think our wisest 
course will be to join the cry.' 

* Hush ! hush ! hush ! your Highness would not 
talk so if you knew what your share of the spoils 
might be. Ay! if your Highness did, your cheek 
would be paler, and your very teeth would chatter. 
I knew one man who was travelling in a forest, just 
as we are now, it was about this time, and he be- 



lieved in the Wild Huntsman about as much as your 
Highness does that is, he liked to talk of the spirit, 
merely to have the opportunity of denying that he 
believed in him ; which showed, as I used to say, 
that his mind was often thinking of it. He was a 
merry knave, and as firm a hand for a boar-spear, as 
ever I met with, and I've met with many. We used 
to call him, before the accident, Left-handed Hans, 
but they call him now, your Highness, the Child- 
Hunter. Oh! it's a very awful tale, your Highness, 
and I'd sooner tell it in blazing hall than in free 
forest. Your Highness didn't hear any sound to the 
left, did you?' 

' Nothing but the wind, Essper ; on with your 
tale, my man.' 

1 It's a very awful tale, Sir, but I'll make short 
work of it. You see, your Highness, it was a night 
just like this ; the moon was generally hid, but the 
stars prevented it from ever being pitch dark. And 
so, Sir, he was travelling alone ; he'd been up to the 
castle of the baron, his master you see, Sir, he was 
head-ranger to his lordship -and he always returned 
home through the forest. What he was thinking of, 
I cannot say, but most likely of no good ; when all 
on a sudden he heard the baying of hounds in the 
distance. Now, your Highness, directly he heard it 
I've heard him tell the story a thousand times 
directly he heard it, it struck him that it must be the 
Spirit Huntsman ; and though there were many ways 
to account for the hounds, still he never for a moment 
doubted that they were the hell-dogs. The sounds 
came nearer and nearer. Now your Highness, I tell 
you this, because if ever, which the Holy Virgin 
forbid! if ever you meet the Wild Huntsman, 
you'll know how to act : conduct yourself always 



with propriety, make no noise, but behave like a 
gentleman, and don't put the dogs off the scent ; 
stand aside, and let him pass. Don't talk, he has 
no time to lose, for if he hunt after day break, a 
night's sport is forfeited for every star left in the 
morning sky. So, Sir, you see nothing puts him in 
a greater passion than to lose his time in answering 
impertinent questions. Well, your Highness, Left- 
handed Hans stood by the road side. The baying of 
the dogs was so distinct, that he felt that in a moment 
the Wild One would be up : his horse shivered like 
a sallow in a storm. He heard the tramp of the 
Spirit-steed : they came in sight. As the tall figure 
of the Huntsman passed I cannot tell your High- 
ness what it was it might have been, Lord forgive 
me for thinking what it might have been! but a 
voice from behind Hans, a voice so like his own, that 
for a moment he fancied that he had himself spoken, 
although he was conscious that his lips had been 
firmly closed the whole time, a voice from the road 
side, just behind poor Hans, mind, said " Good 
sport, Sir Huntsman, 'tis an odd light to track a 
stag!" The poor man, Sir, was all of an ague ; but 
how much greater, your Highness, was his horror, 
when the tall Huntsman stopped ! He thought that 
he was going to be eaten up on the spot, at least: 
not at all, your Highness " My friend!" said the 
Wild One, in the kindest voice imaginable ; " my 
friend, would you like to give your horse a breathing 
with us?" Poor Hans, your Highness, was so 
alarmed, that it never entered into his head for a 
single moment to refuse the invitation, and instantly 
he was galloping by the side of the Wild Huntsman. 
A way they flew! away! away! away! over bog, and 
over mere; over ditch, and over hedge; away! 

45 6 


away! away! and the Ranger's horse never failed, 
but kept by the side of the Wild Spirit without the 
least distress ; and yet, your Highness, it's very 
singular that Hans was about to sell this very beast 
only a day before, for a matter of five crowns : you 
see, your Highness, he only kept it just to pick his 
way at night from the castle to his own cottage. 
Well ! your Highness, it's very odd, but Hans soon 
lost all fear, for the sport was so fine and he had such 
a keen relish for the work, that far from being 
alarmed, he thought himself one of the luckiest 
knaves alive. But the oddest thing all this time was, 
that Hans never caught sight for one moment of 
either buck or boar ; although he saw by the dogs' 
noses that there was something keen in the wind ; 
and although he felt that if the hunted beast were 
like any that he had himself ever followed before, it 
must have been run down with such dogs, quicker 
than a priest could say a pater-noster. At last, Sir, 
for he had grown quite bold, says Hans to the Wild 
Huntsman, " The beasts run quick o' nights, Sir, I 
think ; it's been a long time I ween, e'er I scampered 
so far, and saw so little ! " Do you know, your High- 
ness, that the old gentleman was not the least af- 
fronted, but said, in the pleasantest voice imaginable, 
" A true huntsman should be patient, Hans, you'll 
see the game quick enough ; look forward, man ! 
what see you?" and sure enough, your Highness, 
he did look forward. It was near the skirts of the 
forest, there was a green glade before them, and very 
few trees, and therefore he could see far a-head. The 
moon was shining very bright, and sure enough, what 
did he see? Running as fleet over the turf as a 
rabbit, was a child. The little figure was quite black 
in the moonlight, and Hans could not catch its face : 



in a moment the hell-dogs were on it. Hans 
quivered like a windy reed, your Highness, and the 
Wild One laughed till the very woods echoed. 
"How like you hunting mossmen?" asked the 
Spirit. Now when Hans, your Highness, found it 
was only a mossman, he took heart again, and said in 
a shaking voice, that " It is rare good sport in good 
company ;" and then the Spirit jumped off his horse, 
and said " Now, Hans, you must watch me well, for 
Pm little used to bag game." He said this with a 
proudish air, your Highness, as much as to hint, that 
hadn't he expected Hans, he wouldn't have rode out 
this evening without his groom. So the Wild One 
jumped on his horse again, and put the bag before 
him. It was nearly morning, your Highness, when 
Hans found himself at the door of his own cottage ; 
and bowing very respectfully to the Spirit Hunter, 
he thanked him for the sport, and begged his share of 
the night's spoil. This was all in joke, your High- 
ness, but Hans had heard that " talk to the devil, and 
fear the last word ;" and so he was determined, now 
that they were about to part, not to appear to tremble, 
but to carry it off with a jest. " Truly Hans," said 
the Huntsman, " thou art a bold lad, and to encour- 
age thee to speak to wild huntsmen again, I have a 
mind to give thee for thy pains, the whole spoil. 
Take the bag, knave, a mossman is good eating, had 
I time I would give thee a receipt for sauce ;" 
and so saying, the Spirit rode off, laughing very 
heartily. Well, your Highness, Hans was so 
anxious to examine the contents of the bag, and see 
what kind of thing a mossman really was, for he 
had only caught a glimpse of him in the chace, that 
instead of going to bed immediately and saying his 
prayers, as he should have done, he lighted a Tamp 



and undid the string ; and what think you he took 
out of the bag, your Highness? As sure as I'm a 
born sinner his own child ! ' 

4 'Tis a wonderful tale,' said Vivian ; l and did the 
unfortunate man tell you this himself?' 

' Often and often, Sir, I knew Left-handed Hans 
well. He was ranger, as I said, to a great lord ; and 
was quite a favourite, you see. For some reason or 
other he got out of favour. Some said that the 
Baron had found him out a-poaching ; and that he 
used to ride his master's horses a-night. Whether 
this be true or not, who can say? But, howsoever, 
Hans went to ruin ; and instead of being a flourish- 
ing active lad, he was turned out, and went a begging 
all through Saxony ; and he always told this story as 
the real history of his misfortunes. Some say, he's 
not as strong in his head as he used to be. However, 
why should we say it's not a true tale? What's 
that?' almost shrieked Essper. 

Vivian listened, and heard distinctly the distant 
baying of hounds. 

c 'Tis he ! 'tis he ! ' said Essper ; < now don't speak, 
Sir, don't speak ; and if the devil make me join him, 
as may be the case, for I'm but a cock-brained thing, 
particularly at midnight ; don't be running after me 
from any foolish feeling, but take care or yourself, 
and don't be chattering. To think you should come 
to this, my precious young master!' 

* Cease your blubbering, for heaven's sake ! Do 
you think that I'm to be frightened by the idiot tales 
of a parcel of old women, and the lies of a gang of 
detected poachers? Come sir, ride on. We are, 
most probably, near some huntsman's cottage. That 
distant baying is the sweetest music I've heard a great 



1 Don't be rash, Sir don't be rash don't be rash. 
If you were to give me fifty crowns now, I couldn't 
remember a single line of a single prayer. Ave 
Maria ! it always is so when I most want it. Pater 
noster! and whenever I've need to remember a 
song, sure enough I'm always thinking of a prayer. 
Unser vater, der du bist im himmel sanctificado se 
el tu nombra ; il tuo regno venga.' Here Essper 
George was proceeding with a scrap of modern Greek, 
when the horsemen suddenly came upon one of those 
broad green vistas which we often see in forests, and 
which are generally cut, either for the convenience of 
hunting, or carting wood. It opened on the left side 
of the road ; and at the bottom of it, though ap- 
parently at a great distance, a light was visible. 

* So much for your Wild Huntsman, my friend 
Essper ! I shall be much disappointed if here are not 
quarters for the night. And see! the moon comes 
out a good omen !' 

After about ten minutes sharp trot over the noise- 
less turf, the travellers found themselves before a 
large and many-windowed mansion. The building 
formed the farthest side of a quadrangle, which you 
entered through an ancient and massy gate ; on each 
side of which was a small building of course the 
lodges. Essper soon found that the gate was closely 
fastened ; and though he knocked often and loudly, 
it was with no effect. That the inhabitants of the 
mansion had not yet retired was certain, for lights 
were moving in the great house ; and one of the 
lodges was not only very brilliantly illuminated, but 
full, as Vivian was soon convinced, of clamorous, if 
not jovial guests. 

* Now, by the soul of my unknown father ?' said 
the enraged Essper, I'll make these saucy porters 



learn their duty. What ho ! there what ho ! with- 
in! within!' But the only answer he received, was 
the loud reiteration of a rude and roaring chorus ; 
which, as it was now more distinctly and audibly 
enunciated, evidently for the purpose of enraging the 
travellers they detected to be something to the fol- 
lowing effect : 

' Then a prayer to St. Peter, a prayer to St. Paul, 
A prayer to St. Jerome a prayer to them all 
A prayer to each one of the saintly stock, 
But devotion alone, devotion to Hock ! ' 

' A right good burden ! ' said Essper. The very 
words had made him recover his temper, and ten 
thousand times more desirous of gaining admittance. 
He was off his horse in a moment, and scrambling up 
the wall with the aid of the iron staunchions, he 
clambered up to the window. The sudden appear- 
ance of his figure startled the inmates of the lodge ; 
and one of them soon staggered to the gate. 

* What want you, ye noisy and disturbing varlets ? 
what want you, ye most unhallowed rogues at such a 
place, and at such an hour ? If you be thieves look 
at our bars (here a hiccup). If you be poachers 
our master is engaged, and ye may slay all the game 
in the forest (another hiccup) but if ye be good 
men and true ' 

* We are, we are ! ' hallooed Essper eagerly. 

* You are, you are ! ' said the porter, in a tone of 
great surprise ; * then you ought to be ashamed of 
yourselves for disturbing holy men at their devo- 

* Is this the way,' said Essper, * to behave, ye 
shameless rascals, to a noble and mighty Prince, who 
happens to have lost his way in one of .your cursed 
forests ; but who, though he has parted with his 



suite, has still in his pocket a purse full of ducats? 
Would you have him robbed by any others but 
yourselves ? Is this the way you behave to a prince 
of the Holy Roman Empire a knight of every 
order under the sun, and a most particular friend of 
your own master ? Is this the way to behave to his 
secretary, who is one of the merriest fellows living ; 
can sing a jolly song with any of you, and so bedevil 
a bottle of Geisenheim with lemons and brandy, that 
for the soul of ye, you wouldn't know it from the 
greenest Tokay. Out, out on ye! you know not 
what you have lost!' 

Ere Essper had finished more than one stout bolt 
had been drawn, and the great key had already en- 
tered the stouter lock. 

* Most honourable Sirs!' hiccuped the porter; ' in 
Our Lady's name enter. I had forgot myself; for 
in these autumn nights it is necessary to anticipate 
the cold with a glass of cheering liquor ; and God 
forgive me! if I didn't mistake your most mighty 
Highnesses for a couple of forest rovers, or small 
poachers at least. Thin entertainment here, kind 
Sir (here the last bolt was withdrawn) a glass of 
indifferent liquor, and a prayer-book. I pass the 
time chiefly these cold nights with a few holy-minded 
friends, at our devotions. You heard us at our 
prayers, honourable lords! 

A prayer to St. Peter, a prayer to St. Paul ! 
A prayer to St. Jerome, a prayer to them all ! 

Here the devout porter most reverently crossed him- 

' A prayer to each one of the saintly stock, 
But devotion alone, devotion to Hock ! ' 

bellowed Essper George * You forget the best part 
of the burthen, my honest friend.' 



'Oh!' said the porter, with an arch smile, as he 
opened the lodge door ; * Pm glad to find that your 
honourable Excellencies have a taste for hymns!' 

The porter led them into a room, at a round table 
in which, about half a dozen individuals were busily 
engaged in discussing the merits of various agree- 
able liquors. There was an attempt to get up a show 
of polite hospitality to Vivian as he entered ; but the 
man who offered him his chair fell to the ground in 
an unsuccessful struggle to be courteous ; and an- 
other one, who had filled a large glass for the guest 
on his entrance, offered him, after a preliminary 
speech of incoherent compliments, the empty bottle 
by mistake. The porter and his friends, although 
they were all drunk, had sense enough to feel that the 
presence of a Prince of the Holy Roman Empire, a 
Chevalier of every order under the sun, and the par- 
ticular friend of their master, was not exactly a fit 
companion for themselves, and was rather a check on 
the gay freedom of equal companionship ; and so, 
although the exertion was not a little troublesome, 
the guardian of the gate reeled out of the room to 
inform his honoured Lord of the sudden arrival of a 
stranger of distinction. Essper George immediately 
took his place, and ere the master of the lodge had 
returned, the noble secretary had not only given a 
choice toast, sung a choice song, and been hailed by 
the grateful plaudits of all present ; but had pro- 
ceeded in his attempt to fulfil the pledge which he 
had given at the gate to the very letter, by calling out 
lustily for a bottle of Geisenheim, lemons, brandy, 
and a bowl. 

< Fairly and softly, my little son of Bacchus,' said 
the porter as he re-entered fairly and softly, and 
then thou shall want nothing ; but remember I have 



to perform my duties unto the noble Lord my master, 
and also to the noble Prince your master. If thou 
wilt follow me,' continued the porter, reeling as he 
bowed with the greatest consideration to Vivian ; 
< if thou wilt follow me, most high and mighty Sir, 
my master will be right glad to have the honour of 
drinking your health. And as for you, my friends ; 
fairly and softly, fairly and softly say I again. We'll 
talk of the Geisenheim anon. Am I to be absent 
from the first brewing? No, no! fairly and softly, 
fairly and softly ; you can drink my health when I 
am absent in cold liquor, and say those things which 
you could not well say before my face. But mind, 
my most righteous and well-beloved, I'll have no 
flattery no flattery. Flattery is the destruction of 
all good-fellowship ; it's like a qualmish liqueur in 
the midst of a bottle of wine. No flattery, no flat- 
tery ; speak your minds, say any little thing that 
comes first, as thus " well, for Hunsdrich the por- 
ter, I must declare that I never heard evil word 
against him ;" or thus, " a very good leg has Huns- 
drich the porter, and a tight made lad altogether ; no 
enemy with the girls, I warrant me ;" or thus, " well, 
for a good-hearted, good-looking, stout-drinking, 
virtuous, honourable, handsome, generous, sharp- 
witted knave, commend me to Hunsdrich the por- 
ter ;" but not a word more my friends, not a word 
more, no flattery, no flattery. Now, Sir, I beg your 

The porter led the way through a cloistered walk, 
until they arrived at the door of the great mansion, 
to which they ascended by a lofty flight of steps ; it 
opened into a very large octagonal hall, the sides of 
which were covered with fowling-pieces, stags-heads, 
couteaux de chasse, boar-spears, and hugh fishing- 



nets. Passing through this hall they ascended a very 
noble staircase, on the first landing-place of which 
was a door, which Vivian's conductor opened, and 
ushering him into a large and well-lighted chamber, 
immediately withdrew. From the centre of this 
room descended a magnificently cut chandelier, which 
threw a graceful light upon a sumptuous banquet- 
table, at which were seated eight very singular-look- 
ing personages. All of them wore hunting-dresses 
of various shades of straw-coloured cloth, with the 
exception of one, who sat on the left hand of the 
master of the feast, and the colour of whose costume 
was a rich crimson-purple. From the top to the 
bottom of the table extended a double file of wine- 
glasses and goblets, of all sizes and all colours. 
There you might see brilliant relics of that ancient 
ruby-glass, the vivid tints of which seem lost to us 
for ever. Next to these were marshalled, goblets of 
Venetian manufacture, of a clouded, creamy white ; 
then came the huge hock-glass of some ancient Pri- 
mate of Mentz, nearly a yard high ; towering above 
its companions, as the church, its former master, pre- 
dominated over the simple laymen of the middle 
ages. Why should I forget a set of most curious 
and antique drinking-cups of painted glass, on whose 
rare surfaces were emblazoned the Kaiser and ten 
Electors of the old Empire ? 

Vivian bowed to the party, and stood in silence, 
while they stared a most scrutinising examination. 
At length the master df the feast spoke. He was a 
very stout man, with a prodigious paunch, which his 
tightened dress set off to great advantage. His 
face, and particularly his forehead, were of great 
breadth. His eyes were set far apart. His long 
ears hung down almost to his shoulders ; yet sin- 
20 465 


gular as he was, not only in these, but in many other 
respects, everything was forgotten when your eyes 
lighted on his nose. It was the most prodigious 
nose that Vivian ever remembered not only seeing, 
but hearing, or even reading of. In fact, it was too 
monstrous for the crude conception of a dream. 
This mighty nose hung down almost to its owner's 

* Be seated,' said this personage, in no unpleasing 
voice, and he pointed to the chair opposite to him. 
Vivian took the vacated seat of the Vice President, 
who moved himself to the right. * Be seated, and 
whoever you may be welcome! If our words be 
few, think not that our welcome is scant. We are 
not much given to speech, holding it for a principle 
that if a man's mouth be open, it should be for the 
purpose of receiving that which cheers a man's spirit ; 
not of giving vent to idle words, which, as far as we 
have observed, produce no other effect save filling 
the world with crude and unprofitable fantasies, and 
distracting our attention when we are on the point 
of catching those flavours which alone make the 
world endurable. Therefore, briefly but heartily 
welcome! Welcome, Sir Stranger from us and 

' ^y 

from all ; and first from us, the Grand Duke of 
Schoss Johannisberger.' Here his Highness rose, 
and pulled out a large ruby tumbler from the file. 
Each of those present did the same, without how- 
ever rising, and the late Vice President, who sat 
next to Vivian, invited him to follow their example. 
The Grand Duke of Schoss Johannisberger 
brought forward, from beneath the table, an ancient 
and exquisite bottle of that choice liquor from 
which he took his exhilarating title. The cork was 
drawn, and the bottle circulated with rapidity ; and 



in three minutes the ruby glasses were filled and 
emptied, and the Grand Duke's health quaffed by 
all present. 

* Again, Sir Stranger,' continued the Grand Duke, 
'briefly but heartily welcome! welcome from us, 
and welcome from all and first from us, and now 
from the Archduke of Hockheimer!' 

The Archduke of Hockheimer was a thin, sinewy 
man, with long, carroty hair eyelashes of the same 
colour, but of a remarkable length and mustachios, 
which, though very thin, were so long that they met 
under his chin. Vivian could not refrain from notic- 
ing the extreme length, whiteness, and apparent 
sharpness of his teeth. The Archduke did not speak, 
but leaning under the table, soon produced a bottle 
of Hockheimer. He then took from the file one of 
the Venetian glasses of clouded white. All followed 
his example the bottle was sent round, his health 
was pledged and the Grand Duke of Schoss Johan- 
nisberger again spoke: M I 

* Again, Sir Stranger, briefly but heartily welcome ! 
welcome from us, and welcome from all and first 
from us, and now from the Elector of Steinberg ! ' 

The Elector of Steinberg was a short, but very 
broad-backed, strong-built man. Though his head 
was large, his features were small, and appeared 
smaller from the miraculous quantity of coarse, 
shaggy, brown hair, which grew over almost every 
part of his face, and fell down upon his shoulders. 
The Elector was as silent as his predecessor, and 
quickly produced a bottle of Steinberg. The curious 
drinking cups of painted glass were immediately 
withdrawn from the file, the bottle was sent round, 
the Elector's health was pledged, and the Grand 
Duke of Schoss Johannisberger again spoke : 



* Again, Sir Stranger, briefly but heartily wel- 
come! welcome from us, and welcome from all 
and first from us, and now from the Margrave of 
Rudesheimer ! ' 

The Margrave of Rudesheimer was a slender man, 
of elegant appearance. As Vivian watched the 
glance of his speaking eye, and the half satirical and 
half jovial smile which played upon his features, he 
hardly expected that his Highness would be as silent 
as his predecessors. But the Margrave spoke no 
word. He gave a kind of shout of savage exulta- 
tion as he smacked his lips after dashing off his 
glass of Rudesheimer ; and scarcely noticing the 
salutations of those who drank his health, he threw 
himself back in his chair, and listened seemingly 
with a smile of derision, while the Grand Duke of 
Schoss Johannisberger again spoke : 

* Again, Sir Stranger, briefly but heartily wel- 
come! welcome from us, and welcome from all 
and first from us, and now from the Landgrave of 

The Landgrave of Grafenberg was a rude, awk- 
ward-looking person, who, when he rose from his 
seat, stared like an idiot, and seemed utterly ignorant 
of what he ought to do. But his quick companion, 
the Margrave of Rudesheimer, soon thrust a bottle 
of Grafenberg into the Landgrave's hand, and with 
some trouble and bustle the Landgrave extracted the 
cork ; and then helping himself, sat down, forgetting 
either to salute, or to return the salutations of those 

* Again, Sir Stranger, briefly but heartily wel- 
come! welcome from us, and welcome from all 
and first from us, and now from the Palsgrave of 



The Palsgrave of Geisenheim was a dwarf in spec- 
tacles. He drew the cork from his bottle like 
lightning, and mouthed at his companions, even 
while he bowed to them. 

1 Again, Sir Stranger, briefly but heartily wel- 
come! welcome from us, and welcome from all 
and first from us, and now from the Count of Mark- 
brunnen ! ' 

The Count of Markbrunnen was a sullen-looking 
personage, with lips protruding nearly three inches 
beyond his nose. From each side of his upper jaw 
projected a large tooth. 

( Thanks to Heaven ! ' said Vivian, as the Grand 
Duke again spoke ' thanks to Heaven, here is our 
last man!' 

1 Again, Sir Stranger, briefly but heartily wel- 
come! welcome from us, and welcome from all 
and first from us, and now from the Baron of Asmans- 

The Baron of Asmanshausen sat on the left hand 
of the Grand Duke of Schoss Johannisberger, and 
was dressed, as we have before said, in an unique 
costume of crimson purple. The Baron stood, with- 
out his boots, about six feet eight. He was a sleek 
man, with a head not bigger than a child's, and a 
pair of small, black, beady eyes, of singular bril- 
liancy. The Baron introduced a bottle of the only 
red wine that the Rhine boasts ; but which, for its 
fragrant and fruity flavour, and its brilliant tint, is 
perhaps even superior to the sunset glow of Bur- 

4 And now,' continued the Grand Duke, ' having 
introduced you to all present, Sir, we will begin 

Vivian had submitted to the introductory cere- 


monies with the good grace which becomes a man of 
the world ; but the coolness of his Highness's last 
observation recalled our hero's wandering senses ; 
and, at the same time, alarmed at discovering that 
eight botles of wine had been discussed by the party, 
merely as a preliminary, and emboldened by the con- 
tents of one bottle which had fallen to his own share, 
he had the courage to confront the Grand Duke of 
Schoss Johannisberger in his own castle. 

* Your wine, most noble Lord, stands in no need 
of my commendation ; but as I must mention it, 
let it not be said that I ever mentioned it without 
praise. After a ten hours' ride, its flavour is as 
grateful to the palate as its strength is refreshing to 
the heart ; but though old Hock, in homely phrase, 
is styled meat and drink, I confess to you that, at 
this moment, I stand in need of even more solid 
sustenance than the juice of the sunny hill.' 

' A traitor ! ' shrieked all present, each with 
his right arm stretched out, glass in hand ; * A 
traitor ! ' 

* No traitor,' answered Vivian ; * no traitor, my 
noble and right thirsty lords ; but one of the most 
hungry mortals that ever yet famished.' 

The only answer that he received for some time, 
was a loud and ill-boding murmur. The long whis- 
ker of the Archduke of Hockheimer curled with 
renewed rage : audible, though suppressed, was the 
growl of the hairy Elector of Steinberg ; fearful the 
corporeal involutions of the tall Baron of Asmans- 
hausen ; and savagely sounded the wild laugh of 
the bright-eyed Margrave of Rudesheimer. 

1 Silence, my lords ! ' said the Grand Duke. * For- 
get we that ignorance is the stranger's portion, and 
that no treason can exist among those who are not 



our sworn subjects ? Pity we rather the degeneracy 
of this bold spoken youth ; and in the plenitude of 
our mercy, let us pardon his demand! Know ye, 
unknown knight, that you are in the presence of an 
august society, who are here met at one of their ac- 
customed convocations ; whereof the purport is the 
frequent quaffing of those most glorious liquors, of 
which the sacred Rhine is the great father. We 
profess to find a perfect commentary on the Pindaric 
laud of the strongest element, in the circumstance of 
the banks of a river being the locality where the juice 
of the grape is most delicious and holding, there- 
fore, that water is strongest, because, in a manner, 
it giveth birth to wine ; we also hold it as a sacred 
element, and consequently, most religiously refrain 
from refreshing our bodies with that sanctified and 
most undrinkable fluid. Know ye, that we are the 
children of the Rhine the conservators of his fla- 
vours profound in the learning of his exquisite 
aroma, and deep students in the mysteries of his 
inexplicable nare. Professing not to be immortal, 
we find in the exercise of the chace a noble means to 
preserve that health which is necessary for the per- 
formance of the ceremonies to which we are pledged. 
At to-morrow's dawn our bugle sounds, and thou, 
stranger, may engage the wild boar at our side ; at 
to-morrow's noon the castle bell will toll, and thou, 
stranger, may eat of the beast which thou hast con- 
quered : but to feed after midnight, to destroy the 
power of catching the delicate flavour, to annihilate 
the faculty of detecting the undefinable nare, is 
heresy most rank and damnable heresy! There- 
fore, at this hour soundeth no plate nor platter 
iingleth no knife nor culinary instrument in the 


PALACE OF THE WINES. Yet, in consideration of 


thy youth, and that on the whole thou hast tasted 
thy liquor like a proper man, from which we augur 
the best expectations of the manner in which thou 
wilt drink it, we feel confident that our brothers of 
the goblet will permit us to grant thee the substan- 
tial solace of a single shoeing horn.' 

'/Let it be a Dutch herring then,' said Vivian ; 
4 and as you have souls to be saved, grant me one 
slice of bread.' 

* It cannot be,' said the Grand Duke ; * but as we 
are willing to be indulgent to bold hearts, verily, we 
will wink at the profanation of a single toast ; but 
you must order an anchovy one, and give secret in- 
structions to the waiting-man to forget the fish. It 
must be counted as a second shoeing horn ; and you 
will forfeit for the last a bottle of Markbrunnen.' 

' And now, illustrious brothers,' continued the 
Grand Duke, ' let us drink 1726 !' 

All present gave a single cheer, in which Vivian 
was obliged to join ; and they honoured with a glass 
of the very year, the memory of a celebrated vin- 

* 1748 !' said the Grand Duke. 
Two cheers, and the same ceremony. 

1766, and 1779, were honoured in the same man- 
ner ; but when the next toast was drank, Vivian 
almost observed in the countenances of the Grand 
Duke and his friends, the signs of incipient insanity. 

* 1783!' hallooed the Grand Duke, in a tone of 
the most triumphant exultation ; and his mighty 
proboscis, as it snuffed the air, almost caused a 
whirlwind round the room Hockeimer gave a roar 
: Steinberg a growl Rudesheimer a wild laugh 
Markbrunnen a loud grunt Grafenberg a bray 
Asmanshausen's long body moved to and fro with 



wonderful agitation ; and little Geisenheim's bright 
eyes glistened through their glasses, as if they were 
on fire. How ludicrous is the incipient inebriety of 
a man who wears spectacles! 

Thanks to an excellent constitution, which recent 
misery however had somewhat shattered, Vivian bore 
up against all these attacks ; and when they had got 
down to 1802, from the excellency of his digestion, 
and the inimitable skill with which he emptied many 
of the latter glasses under the table, he was, perhaps, 
in better condition than any one in the room. 

And now rose the idiot Grafenberg ; Rudesheimer 
all the time, with a malicious smile, faintly pulling 
him down by the skirt of his coat ; as if he were 
desirous of preventing an exposure which his own 
advice had brought about. He had been persuad- 
ing Grafenberg the whole evening to make a speech. 

' My Lord Duke,' brayed the jackass ; and then 
he stopped dead, and looked round the room with 
an unmeaning -stare. 

' Hear, hear, hear ! ' was the general cry ; but 
Grafenberg seemed astounded at any one being de- 
sirous of hearing his voice, or for a moment seriously 
entertaining the idea that he could have anything to 
say ; and so he stared again, and again, and again ; 
till at last, Rudesheimer, by dint of kicking his shins 
under the table, the Margrave the whole time 
seeming perfectly motionless at length extracted a 
sentence from the asinine Landgrave. 

* My Lord Duke ! ' again commenced Grafenberg ; 
and again he stopped. 

' Go on ! ' shouted all. 

' My Lord Duke ! Rudesheimer is treading on 
my toes!' 

Here little Geisenheim gave a loud laugh of de- 


rision ; in which all joined, except surly Mark- 
brunnen whose lips protruded an extra inch beyond 
their usual length, when he found that all were 
laughing at his friend. The Grand Duke at last 
procured silence. 

* Shame ! shame ! most mighty Princes ! Shame ! 
shame! most noble lords. Is it with this irreverent 
glee, these scurvy flouts, and indecorous mockery, 
that you would have this stranger believe that we 
celebrate the ceremonies of our father Rhine? 
Shame, I say and silence ! It is time that we should 
prove to him, that we are not merely a boisterous 
and unruly party of swilling varlets, who leave their 
brains in their cups. It is time that we should do 
something to prove that we are capable of better 
and worthier things. What ho ! my Lord of Geisen- 
heim! shall I speak twice to the guardian of the 
horn of the Fairy King ?' 

The little dwarf instantly jumped from his seat, 
and proceeded to the end of the room ; where, after 
having bowed three times with great reverence be- 
fore a small black cabinet made of vine wood, he 
opened it with a golden key, and then with great 
pomp and ceremony bore its contents to the Grand 
Duke. His Royal Highness took from the little 
dwarf the horn of a gigantic and antediluvian elk. 
The cunning hand of an ancient German artificer 
had formed this curious relic into a drinking cup. 
It was exquisitely polished, and cased in the interior 
with silver. On the outside the only ornaments 
were three richly chased silver rings, which were 
placed nearly at equal distances. When the Grand 
Duke had carefully examined this most precious 
horn, he held it up with great reverence to all pre- 
sent, and a party of devout catholics could not have 



paid greater homage to the elevated Host, than did 
the various guests to the horn of the Fairy King. 
Even the satanic smile on Rudesheimer's counten- 
ance was for a moment subdued ; and all bowed. 
The Grand Duke then delivered the mighty cup to 
his neighbour, the Archduke of Hockheimer, who 
held it with both hands until his Royal Highness 
had emptied into it, with great care, three bottles of 
Johannisberger. All rose : the Grand Duke took 
the goblet in one hand, and with the other he dexter- 
ously put aside his most inconvenient and enormous 
nose. Dead silence prevailed, save the roar of the 
liquor as it rushed down the Grand Duke's throat, 
and resounded through the chamber like the distant 
dash of a waterfall. In three minutes his Royal 
Highness had completed his task, the horn had 
quitted his mouth, his nose had again resumed its 
usual situation, and as he handed the cup to the 
Archduke, Vivian thought that a material change 
had taken place in his countenance since he had 
quaffed his last draught. His eyes seemed more 
apart ; his ears seemed broader and longer ; and his 
nose was most visibly lengthened. The Archduke, 
before he commenced his draught, ascertained with 
great scrupulosity that his predecessor had taken his 
fair share by draining the horn as far as the first ring ; 
and then he poured off with great rapidity his own 
portion. But though, in performing the same task, 
he was quicker than the master of the party, the 
draught not only apparently, but audibly, produced 
upon him a much more decided effect than it had on 
the Grand Duke ; for when the second ring was 
drained, the Archduke gave a loud roar of exulta- 
tion, and stood up for some time from his seat, with 
his hands resting on the table, over which he leant 



as if he were about to spring upon his opposite 
neighbour. The cup was now handed across the 
table to the Baron of Asmanshausen. His lordship 
performed his task with ease ; but as he withdrew 
the horn from his mouth, all present, except Vivian, 
gave a loud cry of ' Supernaculum ! ' The Baron 
smiled with great contempt as he tossed, with a care- 
less hand, the great horn upside downwards, and was 
unable to shed upon his hail even the one excusable 
pearl. He handed the refilled horn to the Elector 
of Steinberg, who drank his portion with a growl ; 
but afterwards seemed so pleased with the facility of 
his execution, that instead of delivering it to the 
next bibber, the Palsgrave of Markbrunnen, he com- 
menced some clumsy attempts at a dance of triumph, 
in which he certainly would have proceeded, had not 
the loud grunts of the surly and thick-lipped Mark- 
brunnen occasioned the interference of the Grand 
Duke. Supernaculum now fell to the Margrave of 
Rudesheimer, who gave a loud and long-continued 
laugh as the dwarf of Geisenheim filled the horn 
for the third time. 

While this ceremony was going on a thousand 
plans had occurred to Vivian for his escape ; but all, 
on second thoughts, proved impracticable. With 
agony he had observed that supernaculum was his 
miserable lot. Could he but have foisted it on the 
idiot Grafenberg, he might, by his own impudence 
and the other's stupidity, have escaped. But he 
could not flatter himself that he should be successful 
in bringing about this end, for he observed with 
sorrow that the malicious Rudesheimer had not for 
a moment ceased watching him with a keen and ex- 
ulting glance. Geisenheim performed his task ; and 
ere Vivian could ask for the goblet, Rudesheimer, 



with a fell laugh, had handed it to Grafenberg. The 
greedy ass drank his portion with ease, and indeed 
drank far beyond his limit. The cup was in Vivian's 
hand, Rudesheimer was roaring (supernaculum) 
louder than all Vivian saw that the covetous 
Grafenberg had providentially rendered his task com- 
paratively light ; but even as it was, he trembled at 
the idea of drinking at a single draught, more than a 
pint of most vigorous and powerful wine. 

* My Lord Duke,' said Vivian, * you and your 
companions forget that I am little used to these cere- 
monies ; that I am yet uninitiated in the mysteries 
of the nare. I have endeavoured to prove myself 
no chicken-hearted water-drinking craven, and I 
have more wine within me at this moment than any 
man yet bore without dinner. I think, therefore, 
that I have some grounds for requesting indulgence ; 
and I have no doubt that the good sense of yourself 
and your friends ' 

Ere Vivian could finish, he almost fancied that a 
well-stocked menagerie had been suddenly emptied 
in the room. Such roaring, and such growling, and 
such hissing, could only have been exceeded on some 
grand feast-day in the recesses of a Brazilian forest. 
Asmanshausen looked as fierce as a boa constrictor 
before dinner. The proboscis of the Grand Duke 
heaved to and fro like the trunk of an enraged ele- 
phant. Hockheimer glared like a Bengal tiger, 
about to spring upon its prey. Steinberg growled 
like a Baltic bear. In Markbrunnen Vivian recog- 
nised the wild boar he had himself often hunted. 
Grafenberg brayed like a jackass ; and Geisenheim 
chattered like an ape. But all was forgotten and un- 
noticed when Vivian heard the fell and frantic shouts 
of the laughing hyaena, the Margrave of Rudes- 



heimer! Vivian, in despair, dashed the horn of 
Oberon to his mouth. One pull a gasp another 
desperate draught it was done! and followed by a 
supernaculum almost superior to the exulting As- 

A loud shout hailed the exploit, and when the 
shout had subsided into silence, the voice of the 
Grand Duke of Schoss Johannisberger was again 
heard : 

4 Noble Lords and Princes ! I congratulate you on 
the acquisition of a congenial comate, and the acces- 
sion to our society of one, who I now venture to 
say, will never disgrace the glorious foundation ; but 
who, on the contrary, with heaven's blessing and the 
aid of his own good palate, will, it is hoped, add to 
our present knowledge of flavours by the detection 
of new ones, and by illustrations drawn from fre- 
quent study and constarit observation of the mys- 
terious nare. In consideration of his long journey 
and his noble achievement, I do propose that we 
drink but very lightly to-night, and meet by two 
hours after to-morrow's dawn, under the mossman's 
oak. Nevertheless, before we part, for the refresh- 
ment of our own good bodies, and by way of reward 
and act of courtesy unto this noble and accomplished 
stranger, let us pledge him in some foreign grape of 
fame, to which he may perhaps be more accustomed 
than unto the ever preferable juices of our Father 
Rhine.' Here the Grand Duke nodded to little 
Geisenheim, who in a moment was at his elbow. 

It was in vain that Vivian remonstrated, excused 
himself from joining, or assured his Royal High- 
ness that his conduct had already been so peculiarly 
courteous, that any further attention was at present 
unnecessary. A curiously cut glass, which on a 



moderate calculation Vivian reckoned would hold 
at least three pints, was placed before each guest ; 
and a basket, containing nine bottles of sparkling 
champagne, premiere qualite, was set before his 

* We are no bigots, noble stranger,' said the Grand 
Duke, as he took one of the bottles, and scrutinized 
the cork with a very keen eye ; * We are no bigots, 
and there are moments when we drink Champagne, 
nor is Burgundy forgotten, nor the soft Bourdeaux, 
nor the glowing grape of the sunny Rhone?' His 
Highness held the bottle at an oblique angle with 
the chandelier. The wire is loosened, whirr! 
The exploded cork whizzed through the air, extin- 
guished one of the burners of the chandelier, and 
brought the cut drop which was suspended under it 
rattling down among the glasses on the table. The 
Grand Duke poured the foaming fluid into his great 
goblet, and bowing to all around, fastened on its con- 
tents with as much eagerness as a half-insane dog 
rushes to a puddle in July. 

The same operation was performed as regularly 
and as skilfully by all, except Vivian. Eight bur- 
ners were extinguished ; eight diamond drops had 
fallen clattering on the table ; eight human beings 
had finished a miraculous carouse, by each drinking 
off a bottle of sparkling champagne. It was Vivian's 
turn. All eyes were fixed on him with the most per- 
fect attention. He was now, indeed, quite desper- 
ate ; for had he been able to execute a trick which 
long practice alone could have enabled any man to 
perform, he felt conscious that it was quite out of 
his power to taste a single drop of the contents of his 
bottle. However, he loosened his wire and held 
the bottle at an angle with the chandelier ; but the 



cork flew quite wild, and struck with great force the 
mighty nose of the Grand Duke. , m q 
' A forfeit ! ' cried all. 

* Treason and a forfeit ! ' cried the Margrave of 

' A forfeit is sufficient punishment,' said the Grand 
Duke ; who, however, still felt the smarting effect 
of the assault on his proboscis. ' You must drink 
Oberon's Horn full of champagne,' continued his 

* Never ! ' said Vivian, * Enough of this ; I have 
already conformed in a degree which may injuriously 
affect my health, with your barbarous humours, 
but there is moderation even in excess, and so if 
you please my lord your servant may show me to 
my apartment, or I shall again mount my horse.' 

* You shall not leave this room,' said the Grand 
Duke, with great firmness. 

' Who shall prevent me?' asked Vivian. 

* I will all will ! ' said the Grand Duke. 

* Now, by heavens ! a more insolent and inhospit- 
able old ruffian did I never meet. By the wine you 
worship, if one of you dare touch me, you shall rue 
it all your born days ; and as for you, Sir, if you 
advance one step towards me, I'll take that sausage 
of a nose of your's and hurl you half round your own 
castle ! ' 

* Treason ! ' shouted all, and looked to the Grand 

' Treason ! ' said enraged majesty. The allusion 
to the nose had done away with all the constitutional 
doubts which his Highness had sported so moder- 
ately at the commencement of the evening. 

'Treason!' howled the Grand Duke: 'instant 



* What punishment? 5 asked Asmanshausen. 

' Drown him in the new butt of Moselle/ re- 
commended Rudesheimer. The suggestion was im- 
mediately adopted. Every one rose : the little 
Geisenheim already had hold of Vivian's shoulder ; 
and Grafenberg, instigated by the cowardly but 
malicious Rudesheimer, was about to seize him by 
the neck. Vivian took the dwarf and hurled him 
at the chandelier, in whose brazen chains the little 
being got entangled, and there remained. An un- 
expected cross-buttocker floored the incautious and 
unscientific Grafenburg ; and following up these ad- 
vantages, Vivian laid open the skull of his prime 
enemy, the retreating Margrave of Rudesheimer, 
with the assistance of the horn of Oberon ; which 
flew from his hand to the other end of the room, 
from the force with which it rebounded from the 
cranium of the enemy. All the rest were now on the 
advance ; but giving a vigorous and unexpected 
push to the table, the Grand Duke and Asmans- 
hausen were thrown over, and the nose of the for- 
mer got entangled with the awkward windings of 
the fairy king's horn. Taking advantage of this 
move, Vivian rushed to the door. He escaped, but 
had not time to secure the lock against the enemy, 
for the stout Elector of Steinberg was too quick for 
him. He dashed down the stairs with extraordinary 
agility ; but just as he had gained the large octagonal 
hall, the whole of his late boon companions, with the 
exception of the dwarf of Geisenheim who was left 
in the chandelier, were visible in full chace. Escape 
was impossible, and so Vivian, followed by the seven 
nobles who were headed by the Grand Duke, de- 
scribed with all possible rapidity a circle round the 
hall. He, of course, gave himself up for lost ; but 

2H 481 


luckily for him, it never occurred to one of his pur- 
suers to do anything but follow their leader ; and as, 
therefore, they never dodged Vivian, and as also he 
was a much fleeter runner than the fat Grand Duke, 
whose pace, of course, regulated the progress of his 
followers, the party might have gone on at this rate 
until all of them had dropped from fatigue, had not 
the occurrence of a still more ludicrous incident pre- 
vented this consummation. 

The hall-door was suddenly dashed open, and 
Essper George rushed in, followed in full chace by 
Hunsdrich and 'the guests of the lodge, who were 
the servants of Vivian's pursuers. Essper darted in 
between Rudesheimer and Markbrunnen, and Huns- 
drich and his friends following the same tactics as 
their lords and masters, without making any attempt 
to surround and hem in the object of their pursuit, 
merely followed him in order ; describing, but in a 
contrary direction, a lesser circle within the eternal 
round of the first party. It was only proper for the 
servants to give their masters the wall. In spite of 
their very disagreeable and dangerous situation, it 
was with difficulty that Vivian refrained from laugh- 
ter as he met Essper regularly every half minute at 
the foot of the great staircase. Suddenly, as Essper 
passed, he took Vivian by the waist, and with a single 
jerk placed him on the stairs ; and then, with a dex- 
terous dodge, he brought Hunsdrich the porter and 
the Grand Duke in full contact. 

4 1 have got you at last,' said Hunsdrich, seizing 
hold of his Grace of Schoss Johannisberger by the 
ears, and mistaking him for Essper. 

< I have got you at last,' said his Royal High- 
ness, grappling with his porter, whom he supposed to 
be Vivian. Both struggled : their followers pushed 



on with impetuous force ; the battle was general ; 
the overthrow universal. In a moment all were on 
the ground ; and if any less inebriated, or more active 
individual attempted to rise, Essper immediately 
brought him down with a boar spear. 

* Give me that large fishing-net,' said Essper to 
Vivian; ' Quick, quick, your Highness!' 

Vivian pulled down an immense coarse net, which 
covered nearly five sides of the room. It was im- 
mediately unfolded, and spread over the fallen crew. 
To fasten it down with half a dozen boar-spears, 
which they drove into the floor, was the work of a 
moment. Essper had one pull at the proboscis of 
the Grand Duke of Schoss Johannisberger before he 
hurried Vivian away ; and in ten minutes they were 
again on their horses' backs, and galloping through 
the star-lit wood. 


IT is the hour before the labouring bee has left his 
golden hive ; not yet the blooming day buds in the 
blushing East ; not yet has the victorious Lucifer 
chased from the early sky the fainting splendor of 
the stars of night. All is silent, save the light 
breath of Morn waking the slumbering leaves. 
Even now a golden streak breaks over the grey 
mountains. Hark! to shrill chanticleer! As the 
cock crows, the owl ceases. Hark! to shrill chan- 
ticleer's feathered rival! the mounting lark springs 
from the sullen earth, and welcomes with his hymn 
the coming day. The golden streak has expanded 
into a crimson crescent, and rays of living fire flame 
over the rose-enamelled East. Man rises sooner 
than the Sun ; and already sound the whistle of the 
ploughman, the song of the mower, and the forge of 



the smith, and hark! to the bugle of the hunter, 
and the baying of his deep-mouthed hound. The 
Sun is up the generating Sun! and temple, and 
tower, and tree ; the massy wood, and the broad 
field, and the distant hill, burst into sudden light 
quickly upcurled is the dusky mist from the shining 
river quickly is the cold dew drunk from the raised 
heads of the drooping flowers ! 

These observations are not by our hero ; for 
although, like all other British youth, he had been 
accustomed from an early age to scribble, and gene- 
rally devoted his powers to the celebration of sunrise, 
sunset, the moon, the evening star, and the other 
principal planets ; nevertheless, at the present 
moment, he was far from being in a disposition to 
woo the muse. A quick canter, by a somewhat 
clearer light than the one which had so unfortunately 
guided himself and his companion to the castle of 
the Grand Duke of Schoss Johannisberger, soon 
carried them again to the skirts of the forest, and at 
this minute they were emerging on the plain from 
yonder dark wood. 

' By heavens ! Essper, I cannot reach the town 
this morning. Was ever any thing more terribly 
unfortunate! A curse on those drunken fools! 
What with no rest, and no solid refreshment, and 
the whole rivers of hock that are flowing within me, 
and the infernal exertion of running round that vile 
hall, I feel fairly exhausted, and could at this moment 
fall from my saddle. See you no habitation, my 
good fellow, where there might be a chance of a 
breakfast and a few hours rest? We are now well 
out of the forest Oh! surely there is smoke from 
behind those pines! Some good wife, I trust, is by 
her chimney corner.' 



4 If my sense be not destroyed by the fumes of 
that mulled Geisenhein, which still haunts me, I 
could swear that the smoke is the soul of a burning 

' A truce to your jokes, good Essper, I really am 
very ill. A year ago I could have laughed at our 
misfortunes, but now it is very different ; and by 
heavens, I must have breakfast! So stir exert 
yourself, and although I die for it, let us canter up 
to the smoke.' 

' No, my dear master, I will ride on before. Do 
you follow gently, and if there be a pigeon in the pot 
in all Germany, I swear by the patron saint of every 
village for fifty miles round, provided they be not 
heretics, that you shall taste of its breast-bone this 

The smoke did issue from a chimney, but the door 
of the cottage was shut. 

' Hilloa! hilloa! within, within!' shouted Essper; 
' who shuts the sun out on a September morning ?' 

The door was at length slowly opened, and a most 
ill-favoured and inhospitable-looking dame deman- 
ded in a sullen voice, ' What's your will ?' 

* Oh ! you pretty creature ! ' said Essper, who was 
still a little tipsy. 

The door would have been shut in his face, had not 
he darted into the house before the woman was aware. 

' Truly, a very neat and pleasant dwelling ! and 
you would have no objection, I guess, to give a 
handsome young gentleman some little sop of some- 
thing, just to remind him you know that it isn't 

4 We give no sops here ; what do you take us for ? 
and so, my handsome young gentleman, be off, or I 
shall call the good man.' 



i * Oh ! you beauty : why, I'm not the handsome 
young gentleman, that's my master! who, if he 
were not half-starved to death, would fall in love 
with you at first sight.' 

1 Oh! your master is he in the carriage?' 

' Carriage ! no on horseback.' 

* Travellers?' 

4 To be sure, my dearest dame ; travellers true.' 

1 Travellers true, without luggage, and at this 
time of morn! Methinks, by your looks, queer 
fellow, that you're travellers whom it may be wise for 
an honest woman not to meet.' 

1 What ! some people have an objection, then, 
to a forty kreiizer piece on a sunny morning?' 

So saying, Essper, in a careless manner, tossed a 
broad piece in the air, and made it ring on a fellow 
coin, as he caught it in the palm of his hand when it 

c Is that your master ?' asked the woman. 

4 Ay ! is it ; and the prettiest piece of flesh I've 
seen this month, except yourself.' 

4 Well ! if the gentleman likes bread, he can sit 
down here,' said the woman, pointing to a dirty 
bench, and throwing a sour black loaf upon the 

1 Now, Sir ! ' said Essper, wiping the bench with 
great care, l lie you here and rest yourself. I've 
known a marshal sleep upon a harder sofa. Break- 
fast will be ready immediately, won't it, Ma'am?' 

c Haven't I given you the bread ? if you cannot 
eat that, you may ride where you can find better 

' Yes ! you beauty yes ! you angel yes ! you 
sweet creature but what's bread for a traveller's 
breakfast ? But I dare say his Highness will be con- 



tented young men are so easily pleased when there's 
a pretty girl in the case you know that, you wench ! 
you do, you little hussy, you're taking advantage of 

Something like a smile lit up the face of the sul- 
len woman when she said ' There may be an egg 
in the house, but I don't know.' 

4 But you will soon, you dear creature ! you see 
his Highness is in no hurry for his breakfast. He 
hasn't touched the bread yet, he's thinking of you, 
I've no doubt of it ; now go and get the eggs, that's 
a beauty ! Oh ! what a pretty foot ! ' bawled Essper 
after her, as she left the room. ' Now confound this 
old hag, if there's not meat about this house, may I 
keep my mouth shut at our next dinner. I wonder 
what's in that closet fastened! Here the knave 
began sniffing and smelling in all the crevices. ( Oh ! 
here's our breakfast ! my good lady, is it so ? What's 
that in the corner? a boar's tusk! Ay! ay! a 
huntsman's cottage and when lived a huntsman on 
black bread before! Good cheer! good cheer, Sir! 
we shall have such a breakfast to-day, that, by the 
gods of all nations, we shall never forget it! Oh! 
bless your bright eyes for these eggs, and that basin 
of new milk.' 

So saying, Essper took them out of her hand, and 
placed them before Vivian. 

4 1 was saying to myself, my pretty girl, when you 
were out of the room " Essper George, Essper 
George good cheer, Essper George say thy 
prayers, and never despair come what, come may, 
you'll fall among friends at last ; and how do you 
know that your dream mayn't come true after all." 
"Dream!" said I to myself, "what dream?" 
" Dream!" said myself to I, " didn't you dream that 



you breakfasted in the month of September with a 
genteel young woman with gold ear-rings ; and isn't 
she standing before you now! and didn't she do 
every thing in the world to make you comfortable. 
Didn't she give you milk and eggs, and when you 
complained that you and meat had been but slack 
friends of late, didn't she open her own closet, and 
give you as fine a piece of hunting beef as 
was ever set before a Jagd Junker." Oh! you 
beauty ! ' 

* I think you'll turn me into an inn-keeper's wife 
at last,' said the dame, her stern features relaxing 
into a smile ; and while she spoke she advanced to 
the great closet, Essper George following her, walk- 
ing on his toes, lolling out his enormous tongue, and 
stroking his mock paunch. As she opened it he 
jumped upon a chair, arid had examined every shelf 
in less time than a pistol could flash. ' White 
bread! Oh! you beauty, fit for a countess. Salt! 
Oh ! you angel, worthy of Poland. Boar's head ! ! 
Oh ! you sweet creature, no better at Troyes ! and 
hunting beef! ! ! my dream is true!' and he bore in 
triumph to Vivian, who was nearly asleep, the ample 
round of salt and pickled beef, well stuffed with all 
kinds of savory herbs. 

4 Now, Sir!' said he, putting before his master a 
plate and necessary implements ; * let your heart 
gladden No Sir! no Sir! cut the other side cut 
the other side there's the silver edge. Now Sir, 
some fat drink your milk drink your milk such 
beef as this will soon settle all your Rhenish. Why 
your eyes are brighter already .-Have you breakfasted 
ma'am? You have, eh! Oh! breakfast again 
never too much of a good thing. I always break- 
fast myself till dinner-time ; and when dinner's fin- 



ished, I begin my supper. Pray, where the devil are 
we? Is this Reisenberg!' 

' So we call it.' 

4 And a very good name, too! Let me give you 
a little stuffing, Sir. And are the Grand Duke's 
gentlemen out a hunting?' 

* No, it's the Prince.' 

' The Prince ah! I dare say you've a little more 
milk. What a nice cottage this is! How I should 


like to live here with you though with you 
thank you for the milk quite fresh beautiful! 
I'm my own man again ! How do you feel, Sir ?' 

* Thanks to this good woman, much better ; and 
with her kind permission, I will now rest myself on 
this bench for a couple of hours. This, good lady,' 
said Vivian, giving her some florins, ' I do not offer 
as a remuneration for your kindness, but as a slight 
token of ' 

Here Vivian began to snore. Essper George, who 
always slept with his eyes open, and who never sat 
still for a second, save when eating, immediately left 
the table ; and in five minutes was as completely 
domesticated in the huntsman's cottage, as if he had 
lived there all his life. The woman was quite de- 
lighted with a guest, who, in the course of half-an- 
hour had cleaned her house from top to bottom, dug 
up half her garden, mended her furniture, and milked 
-her cow. 

It was nearly an hour before noon ere the travel- 
lers had remounted. Their road again entered the 
enormous forest which they had been skirting for the 
last two days. The huntsmen were abroad ; and the 
fine weather, his good meal, and seasonable rest, and 
the inspiriting sounds of the bugle, made Vivian 
feel quite recovered from his late fatigue. 



' That must be a true-hearted huntsman, Essper, 
by the sound of his bugle. I never heard one played 
with more spirit. Hark! how fine it dies away in 
the wood fainter and fainter, yet how clear! It 
must be now half a mile distant.' 

' I hear nothing so wonderful,' said Essper, put- 
ting the two middle fingers of his right hand before 
his mouth, and sounding a note so clear and beauti- 
ful, so exactly imitative of the fall which Vivian had 
noticed and admired, that for a moment he imagined 
that the huntsman was at his elbow. 

' Thou art a cunning knave! do it again.' This 
time Essper made the very wood echo. In a few 
minutes a horseman galloped up. He was as spruce 
a cavalier as ever pricked gay steed on the pliant 
grass. He was dressed in a green military uniform, 
and a small gilt bugle hung down his side. His 
spear told them that he was hunting the wild boar. 
When he saw Vivian and Essper he suddenly pulled 
up his horse, and seemed very much astonished. 

' I thought that his Highness had been here,' said 
the huntsman. 

4 No one has passed us, Sir,' said Vivian. 

' I could have sworn that his bugle sounded from 
this very spot,' said the huntsman. ' My ear seldom 
deceives me.' 

' We heard a bugle to the right, Sir,' said Essper. 

' Thanks, thanks, thanks my friend,' and the 
huntsman was about to gallop off. 

* May I ask the name of his Highness,' said Vi- 
vian. ' We are strangers in this country.' 

* That may certainly account for your ignorance,' 
said the huntsman ; * but no one who lives in this 
land can be unacquainted with his Serene Highness 
the Prince of Little Lilliput, my illustrious master. 



I have the honour,' continued the huntsman, 'of 
being Jagd Junker, or Gentilhomme de la Chasse to 
his Serene Highness.' 

' 'Tis an office of great dignity,' said Vivian, * and 
one that I have no doubt you most admirably per- 
form I will not stop you, Sir, to admire your 

The huntsman bowed very courteously, and gal- 
loped off. 

' You see, Sir,' said Essper George, * that my bugle 
has deceived even the Jagd Junker, or Gentilhomme 
de la Chasse of his Serene Highness the Prince of 
Little Lilliput himself;' so saying, Essper again 
sounded his instrument. 

' A joke may be carried too far, my good fellow,' 
said Vivian. * A true huntsman, like myself, 
must not spoil a brother's sport. So silence your 

Now again galloped up the Jagd Junker, or Gen- 
tilhomme de la Chasse of his Serene Highness the 
Prince of Little Lilliput. He pulled up his horse 
again, apparently as much astounded as ever. 

' I thought that his Highness had been here,' said 
the Huntsman. 

4 No one has passed us,' said Vivian. 

' We heard a bugle to the right, said Essper 

' I am afraid his Serene Highness must be in dis- 
tress. The whole suite are off the scent. It must 
have been his bugle, for the regulations of this forest 
are so strict, that no one dare sound a blast but his 
Serene Highness.' Away galloped the huntsman. 

* Next time I must give you up Essper,' said 

* One more blast, my good master ! ' begged Ess- 



per, in a very supplicating voice. ' This time to the 
left the confusion will be then complete.' 

* On your life not I command you not,' and so 
they rode on in silence. But it was one of those 
days when Essper could neither be silent nor sub- 
dued. Greatly annoyed at not being permitted to 
play his bugle, he amused himself for some time by 
making the most hideous grimaces ; but as there were 
none either to admire or to be alarmed by the con- 
tortions of his countenance, this diversion soon palled. 
He then endeavoured to find some entertainment in 
riding his horse in every mode except the right one ; 
but again, who was to be astounded by his standing 
on one foot on the saddle, or by his imitations of the 
ludicrous shifts of a female equestrian, perfectly 
ignorant of the manege. At length he rode with 
his back to his horse's head, and imitated the peculiar 
sound of every animal that he met. A young fawn, 
and various kinds of birds already followed him ; and 
even a squirrel had perched on his horse's neck. And 
now they came to a small farm house which was 
situated in the forest. The yard here offered great 
amusement to Essper. He neighed, and half a 
dozen horses' heads immediately appeared over the 
hedge ; another neigh, and they were following him 
in the road. The dog rushed out to seize the dan- 
gerous stranger, and recover his charge ; but Essper 
gave an amicable bark, and in a second the dog was 
jumping by his side, and engaged in the most ear- 
nest and friendly conversation. A loud and 
continued grunt soon brought out the pigs ; and 
meeting three or four cows returning home, a 
few lowing sounds soon seduced them from 
keeping their appointment with the dairy-maid. 
A stupid jackass, who stared with astonishment 



at the procession, was saluted with a lusty 
bray, which immediately induced him to swell 
the ranks ; and as Essper passed the poultry-yard, he 
so deceitfully informed its inhabitants that they were 
about to be fed, that twenty broods of ducks and 
chickens were immediately after him. The careful 
hens were terribly alarmed at the danger which their 
offspring incurred from the heels and hoofs of the 
quadrupeds ; but while they were in doubt and de- 
spair, a whole flock of stately geese issued in solemn 
pomp from another gate of the farm-yard, and com- 
menced a cackling conversation with the delighted 
Essper. So contagious is the force of example, and 
so great was the confidence which the hens placed in 
these pompous geese ; who were not the first fools 
whose solemn air has deceived a few old females ; 
that as soon as they perceived them in the train of the 
horseman, they also trotted up to pay their respects 
at his levee. And here Vivian Grey stopped his 
horse, and burst into a fit of laughter. 

But it was not a moment for mirth ; for rushing 
down the road with awful strides appeared two sturdy 
and enraged husbandmen, one armed with a pike, 
and the other with a pitchfork, and accompanied by 
a frantic female, who never for a moment ceased 
hallooing, * Murder, rape, and fire ! ' every thing but 
< theft.' 

' Now, Essper, here's a pretty scrape!' 

4 Stop, you rascals ! ' hallooed Adolph the herds- 

'Stop, you gang of thieves!' hallooed Wilhelm 
the ploughman. 

1 Stop, you bloody murderers!' shrieked Phil- 
lippa, the indignant mistress of the dairy and the 



* Stop, you villains ! ' hallooed all three. The vil- 
lains certainly made no attempt to escape, and in half 
a second the enraged household of the forest farmer 
would have seized on Essper George ; but just at 
this crisis he uttered loud sounds in the respective 
language of every bird and beast about him ; and 
suddenly they all turned round, and counter-marched. 
Away rushed the terrified Adolph the herdsman, 
while one of his own cows was on his back. Still 
quicker scampered off the scared Wilhelm the 
ploughman, while one of his own steeds kicked him 
in his rear. Quicker than all these, shouting, 
screaming, shrieking, dashed back the unhappy mis- 
tress of the hen-roost, with all her subjects crowding 
about her ; some on her elbow, some on her head, 
her lace-cap destroyed, her whole dress disorganized. 
Another loud cry from Essper George, and the re- 
treating birds cackled with redoubled vigour. Still 
louder were the neighs of the horses, the bray of the 
jackass, the barking of the dog, the squeaking of the 
swine, and the lowing of the cows! Essper enjoyed 
the scene at his ease, leaning his back in a careless 
manner against his horse's neck. The movements 
of the crowd were so quick that they were soon out 
of sight. 

c A trophy ! ' called out Essper, as he jumped off 
his horse, and picked up the pike of Adolph, the 

* A boar-spear, or I am no huntsman,' said Vivian 
c give it me a moment!' He threw it up into the 
air, caught it with ease, poised it on his finger with 
the practised skill of one well used to handle the 
weapon, and with the same delight imprinted on his 
countenance as greets the sight of an old friend. 

' This forest, Essper, and this spear, make me re- 


member days when I was vain enough to think that 
I had been sufficiently visited with sorrow. Ah! 
little did I then know of human misery, although I 
imagined I had suffered so much! But not my will 
be done ! ' muttered Vivian to himself. 

As he spoke, the sounds of a man in distress were 
heard from the right side of the road. 

1 Who calls, who calls ?' cried Essper ; a shout was 
the only answer. There was no path, but the under- 
wood was low, and Vivian took his horse, an old 
forester, across it with ease. Essper's jibbed. Vi- 
vian found himself in a small green glade of about 
thirty feet square. It was thickly surrounded with 
lofty trees, save at the point where he had entered ; 
and at the farthest corner of it, near some grey rocks, 
a huntsman was engaged in a desperate contest with 
a wild-boar. 

The huntsman was on his right knee, and held his 
spear with both hands at the furious beast. It was 
an animal of extraordinary size and power. Its eyes 
glittered like fire. On the turf to its right a small 
grey mastiff, of powerful make, lay on its back, 
bleeding profusely, with its body ripped open. An- 
other dog, a fawn-coloured bitch, had seized on* the 
left ear of the beast ; but the under-tusk of the boar, 
which was nearly a foot long, had penetrated the 
courageous dog, and the poor creature writhed in 
agony, even while it attempted to wreak its revenge 
upon its enemy. The huntsman was nearly exhaus- 
ted. Had it not been for the courage of the fawn- 
coloured dog, which, clinging to the boar, prevented 
it making a full dash at the man, he must have been 
instantly gored. Vivian was off his horse in a 
minute, which, frightened at the sight of the wild 
boar, dashed again over the hedge. 



' Keep firm, keep firm, Sir!' said he, { do not move. 
I'll amuse him behind, and make him turn.' 

A graze of Vivian's spear on its back, though it 
did not materially injure the beast, for there the boat- 
is nearly invulnerable, annoyed it ; and dashing off 
the fawn-coloured dog with great force, it turned on 
its new assailant. Now there are only two places in 
which the wild-boar can be assailed with any effect ; 
and these are just between the eyes, and between the 
shoulders. Great caution however is necessary in 
aiming these blows, for the boar is very adroit in 
transfixing the weapon on his snout, or his tusks ; 
and if once you miss, particularly if you are not 
assisted by your dogs, which Vivian was not, 'tis all 
over with you ; for the enraged animal rushes in like 
lightning, and gored you must be. 

But Vivian was quite fresh, and quite, cool. The 
animal suddenly stood still, and eyed its new enemy. 
Vivian was quiet, for he had no objection to give the 
beast an opportunity of retreating to its den. But 
retreat was not its object it suddenly darted at the 
huntsman, who, however, was not off his guard, 
though unable from a slight wound in his knee to 
rise. Vivian again annoyed the boar at the rear, and 
the animal soon returned to him. He made a feint, 
as if he were about to strike his pike between its 
eyes. The boar not feeling a wound, which had not 
been inflicted, and very irritated, rushed at him, and 
he buried his spear a foot deep between its shoulders. 
The beast made one fearful^ struggle, and then fell 
down quite dead. The fawn-coloured bitch, though 
terribly wounded, gave a loud bark ; and even the 
other dog, which Vivian thought had been long dead, 
testified its triumphant joy by an almost inarticulate 
groan. As soon as he was convinced that the boar 



was really dead, Vivian hastened to the huntsman, 
and expressed his hope that he was hot seriously 

' A trifle, a trifle, which our surgeon, who is used 
to these affairs, will quicldy cure Sir! we owe you 
our life!' said the huntsman, with great dignity, as 
Vivian assisted him in rising from the ground. He 
was a tall man, of imposing appearance ; but his 
dress, which was the usual hunting costume of a 
German nobleman, did not indicate his quality. 

' Sir, we owe you our life ! ' repeated the stranger ; 
4 five minutes more, and our son must have reigned 
in Little Lilliput.' 

4 1 have the honour then of addressing your Serene 
Highness. Far from being indebted to me, I feel 
that I ought to apologize for having so unceremoni- 
ously joined in your sport.* 

4 Nonsense, man, nonsense ! We have killed in 
our time too many of these gentlemen to be ashamed 
of owning that, had it not been for you, one of them 
would at last have revenged the species. But many 
as are the boars that we have killed or eaten, we 
never saw a more furious or powerful animal than the 
present. Why, Sir, you must be one of the best 
hands at the spear in all Christendom!' 

1 Indifferently good, your Highness : your High- 
ness forgets that the animal was already exhausted by 
your assault.' ; 

4 Why, there's something in that ; but it was 
neatly done, man it was neatly done. You're fond 
of the sport, we think ?' 

1 I have had some practice, but illness has so weak- 
ened me that I have given up the forest.' 

4 Indeed ! pity, pity, pity ! and on a second ex- 
amination, we observe that you are no hunter. This 

?I 497 


coat is not for the free forest ; but how came you 
by the pike ?' 

' I am travelling to the next post town, to which 
I have sent on my luggage. I am getting fast to 
the south ; and as for this pike, my servant got it 
this morning from some peasant in a brawl, and was 
showing it to me when I heard your Highness call. 
I really think now that Providence must have sent it. 
I certainly could not have done you much service 
with my riding whip Hilloa ! Essper, Essper, where 
are you?' 

' Here, noble Sir ! here, here why what have you 
got there? The horses have jibbed, and will not stir 
I can stay no longer they may go to the devil!' 
so saying, Vivian's valet dashed over the underwood, 
and leapt at the foot of the Prince. 

' In God's name, is this thy servant ?' asked his 

4 In good faith am I,' said Essper ; ' his valet, his 
cook, and his secretary, all in one ; and also his Jagd 
Junker, or Gentilhomme de la Chasse as a puppy 
with a bugle horn told me this morning.' 

1 A very merry knave!' said the Prince; * and 
talking of a puppy with a bugle horn, reminds us 
how unaccountably we have been deserted to-day by 
a suite that never yet were wanting. We are indeed 
astonished. Our bugle, we fear, has turned traitor.' 
So saying, the Prince executed a blast with great 
skill, which Vivian immediately recognised as the 
one which Essper George had so admirably imi- 

' And now, my good friend,' said the Prince, ' we 
cannot hear of your passing through our land, with- 
out visiting our good castle. We would that we 
could better testify the obligation which we feel 



under to you, in any other way than by the offer of 
an hospitality which all gentlemen, by right, can 
command. But your presence would, indeed, give 
us sincere pleasure. You must not refuse us. Your 
looks, as well as your prowess, prove your blood ; 
and we are quite sure no cloth-merchant's order will 
suffer by your not hurrying to your proposed point 
of destination. We are not wrong we think, 
though your accent is good, in supposing that we 
are conversing with an English gentleman. But here 
they come.' 

As he spoke, three or four horsemen, at the head 
of whom was the young huntsman whom the tra- 
vellers had met in the morning, sprang into the 

Why, Arnelm!' said the Prince, * when before 
was the Jagd Junker's ear so bad that he could not 
discover his master's bugle, even though the wind 
were against him?' 

* In truth, your Highness, we have heard bugles 
enough this morning. Who is violating the forest 
laws, we know not ; but that another bugle is sound- 
ing, and played, St. Hubert forgive me for saying 
so, with as great skill as your Highness', is certain. 
Myself, Von Neuwied, and Lintz, have been gallop- 
ing over the whole forest. The rest, I doubt not, 
will be up directly.' The Jagd Junker blew his own 

In the course of five minutes about twenty other 
horsemen, all dressed in the same uniform, had ar- 
rived ; all complaining of their wild chases after the 
Prince in every other part of the forest. 

1 It must be the Wild Huntsman himself!' swore 
an old hand. This solution of the mystery satisfied 



* Well, well ! ' said the Prince ; ' whoever it may 
be, had it not been for the timely presence of this 
gentleman, you must have changed your green jac- 
kets for mourning coats, and our bugle would have 
sounded no more in the forest of our fathers. Here, 
Arnelm! cut up the beast, and remember that the 
left shoulder is the quarter of honour, and belongs 
to this stranger ; not less honoured because un- 

All present took off their caps and bowed to Vi- 
vian ; who took this opportunity of informing the 
Prince who he was. 

* And now,' continued his Highness, ' Mr. Grey 
will accompany us to our Castle ; nay, Sir, we can 
take no refusal. We will send on to the town for 
your luggage. Arnelm, do you look to this! 
And, honest friend!' said the Prince, turning to 
Essper George, * we commend you to the special 
care of our friend Von Neuwied, and so, gentle- 
men, with stout hearts and spurs to your steeds to 
the Castle!' 


THE cavalcade proceeded for some time at a very 
brisk but irregular pace, until they arrived at a less 
wild and wooded part of the forest. The Prince of 
Little Lilliput reined in his steed as he entered a 
very broad avenue of purple beeches, at the end of 
which, though at a considerable distance, Vivian per- 
ceived the towers and turrets of a Gothic edifice 
glittering in the sunshine. 

f Welcome to Turriparva!' said his Highness. 

4 1 assure your Highness,' said Vivian, * that I 
view with no unpleasant feeling, the prospect of a 
reception in any civilized mansion ; for to say the 



truth, for the last eight-and-forty hours, Fortune has 
not favoured me either in my researches after a bed, 
or that which some think still more important than 
nightly repose.' 

* Is it so?' said the Prince; 'Why, we should 
have thought by your home thrust this morning, that 
you were as fresh as the early lark. In good faith, 
it was a pretty stroke ! And whence come you then, 
good Sir?' 

* Know you a most insane and drunken idiot, who 
styles himself the Grand Duke of Schoss Johannis- 
berger ?' 

' No, no!' said the Prince, staring in Vivian's face 
very earnestly, and then bursting into a loud fit of 
laughter; ' No, no, it cannot be! hah! hah! hah! 
but it is though ; and you have actually fallen among 
that mad crew. Hah ! hah ! hah ! a most excellent 
adventure! Arnelm! why, man, where art thou? 
ride up, ride up! Behold in the person of this 
gentleman a new victim to the overwhelming hospi- 
tality of our uncle of the Wines. And did they 
confer a title on you on the spot? Say, art thou 
Elector, or Palsgrave, or Baron ; or, failing in thy 
devoirs, as once did our good cousin Arnelm, confess 
that thou wert ordained with becoming reverence, 
the Archprimate of Puddledrink. Eh! Arnelm, is 
not that the style thou bearest at the Palace of the 
Wines ?' 

1 So it would seem, your Highness. I think the 
title was conferred on me the same night that your 
Highness mistook the Grand Duke's proboscis for 
Oberon's Horn, and committed treason not yet par- 

' Hah ! hah ! hah ! good ! good ! good ! thou 
hast us there. Truly a good memory is often as 



ready a friend as a sharp wit. Wit is not thy strong 
point, friend Arnelm ; and yet it is strange, that in 
the sharp encounter of ready tongues and idle logo- 
machies, thou hast sometimes the advantage. But, 
nevertheless, rest assured, good cousin Arnelm, that 
wit is not thy strong point.' 

4 It is well for me that all are not of the same 
opinion as your Serene Highness,' said the young 
Jagd Junker, somewhat nettled ; for he prided him- 
self peculiarly on his repartees. 

The Prince was exceedingly diverted with Vivian's 
account of his last night's adventure ; and our hero 
learnt from his Highness, that his late host was no 
less a personage than the cousin of the Prince of 
Little Lilliput, an old German Baron, who passed his 
time with some neighbours of congenial tempera- 
ment, in hunting the wild boar in the morning, and 
speculating on the flavours of the fine Rhenish wines 
during the rest of the day. ' He and his com- 
panions,' continued the Prince, will enable you to 
form a tolerably accurate idea of the character of the 
German nobility half a century ago. The debauch 
of last night was the usual carouse which crowned the 
exploits of each day when we were a boy. The re- 
volution has rendered all these customs obsolete. 
Would that it had not sent some other things equally 
out of fashion!' 

At this moment the Prince sounded his bugle, and 
the gates of the castle, which were not more than 
twenty yards distant, were immediately thrown open. 
The whole cavalcade set spurs to their steeds, and 
dashed at a full gallop over the hollow-sounding 
drawbridge, into the courtyard of the castle. A 
crowd of serving-men, in green liveries, instantly 
appeared ; and Arnelm and Von Neuwied, jumping 



from their saddles, respectively held the stirrup and 
the bridle of the Prince as he dismounted. 

* Where is Master Rodolph?' asked his Highness, 
with a loud voice. 

* So please your Serene Highness, I am here ! ' an- 
swered a very thin treble ; and bustling through the 
surrounding crowd, came forward the owner of the 
voice. Master Rodolph was not above five feet high, 
but he was nearly as broad as he was long. Though 
more than middle-aged, an almost infantine smile 
played upon his broad fair face ; to which his small 
turn-up nose, large green goggle eyes, and unmean- 
ing mouth, gave no expression. His long hair hung 
over his shoulders, the flaxen locks in some places 
maturing into grey. In compliance with the taste of 
his master, this most unsportsman-like looking 
steward was clad in a green jerkin, on the right arm 
of which was embroidered a giant's head the crest 
of the Little Lilliputs. 

' Truly, Rodolph, we have received some scratch 
in the chace to-day, and need your assistance. The 
best of surgeons we assure you, Mr. Grey, if you 
require one: and look you that the blue chamber 
be prepared for this gentleman ; and we shall have 
need of our Cabinet this evening. See that all this 
be done, and inform Prince Maximilian that we 
would speak with him. And look you, Master 
Rodolph, there is one in this company, what call 
you your servant's name, Sir? Essper George! 'tis 
well : look you, Rodolph, see that our friend Essper 
George be well provided for. We know that we can 
trust him to your good care. And now, gentlemen, 
at sunset we meet in the Giants' Hall.' So saying, 
his Highness bowed to the party ; and taking Vivian 
by the arm, and followed by Arnelm and Von Neu- 



wied, he ascended a staircase which opened into the 
court, and then mounted into a covered gallery which 
ran round the whole building. The interior wall of 
the gallery was alternately ornamented with stags' 
heads, or other trophies of the chace ; and coats of 
arms blazoned in stucco. The Prince did the hon- 
ours of the castle to Vivian with great courtesy. The 
armoury, and the hall, the knight's chamber, and even 
the donjon keep were all examined ; and when Vivian 
had sufficiently admired the antiquity of the struc- 
ture, and the beauty of the situation, the Prince, hav- 
ing proceeded down a long corridor, opened the door 
into a small chamber which he introduced to Vivian 
as his Cabinet. The furniture of this room was 
rather quaint, and not unpleasing. The wainscoat 
and ceiling were painted alike, of a very light green 
colour, and were richly carved and gilt. The walls 
were hung with dark green velvet, of which costly 
material were also the chairs, and a sofa, which was 
placed under a large and curiously cut looking-glass. 
The lower panes of the windows of this room were 
of stained glass, of the most vivid tints ; but the 
upper panes were untinged, in order that the light 
should not be disturbed which fell through them upon 
two magnificent pictures ; one a hunting-piece by 
Schneiders, and the other a portrait of an armed 
chieftain on horseback, by Lucas Cranach. 

And now the door opened, and Master Rodolph 
entered, carrying in his hand a white wand, and bow- 
ing very reverently as he ushered in two servants 
bearing a cold collation. As he entered, it was with 
difficulty that he could settle his countenance into 
the due and requisite degree of gravity ; and so often 
was the fat steward on the point of bursting into 
laughter, as he arranged the setting out of the re- 



freshments on the table, that the Prince, with whom 
he was, at the same time, both a favourite and a butt, 
at last noticed his unusual and unmanageable risi- 

4 Why, Rodolph, what ails thee ? hast thou just 
discovered the point of some good saying of yester- 

The Steward could now contain his laughter no 
longer, and he gave vent to his emotion in a most 
treble 'He! he! he!' 

' Speak, man, in the name of St. Hubert, and on 
the word of as stout a huntsman as ever yet crossed 
horse. Speak, we say, what ails thee?' 

* He ! he ! he ! in truth, a most comical knave ! 
I beg your Serene Highness ten thousand most 
humble pardons, but in truth a more comical knave 
did I never see. How call you him ? Essper 
George, I think, he ! he ! he ! In truth, your High- 
ness was right when you styled him a merry knave 
in truth a most comical knave he ! he ! he ! a very 
funny knave! he! he! he! He says, your High- 
ness, that I'm like a snake in a consumption he! 
he! he! in truth a most comical knave!' 

' Well, Rodolph, as long as you do not quarrel 
with his jokes, they shall pass as true wit. But why 
comes not our son? Have you bidden the Prince 
Maximilian to our presence?' 

' In truth have I, your Highness ; but he was en- 
gaged at the moment with Mr. Sievers, and therefore 
he could not immediately attend my bidding ; never- 
theless, he bade me deliver to your Serene Highness 
his dutiful affection ; saying, that he would soon 
have the honour of bending his knee unto your 
Serene Highness.' 

' He never said any such nonsense. At least, if 


he did, he must be much changed since last we 

' In truth, your Highness, I cannot aver upon my 
conscience as a faithful steward, that such were the 
precise words and exact phraseology of his Highness, 
the Prince Maximilian. But in the time of the good 
Prince, your father, whose memory be ever blessed, 
such were the words and style of message, which I 
was schooled and instructed by Mr. Von Lexicon, 
your Serene Highness's most honoured tutor, to bear 
unto the good Prince, your father, whose memory be 
ever blessed ; when I had the great fortune of being 
your Serene Highness's most particular page, and it 
fell to my lot to have the pleasant duty of informing 
the good Prince, your father, whose memory be ever 
blessed ' 

* Enough! enough! but Sievers is not Von Lexi- 
con, and Maximilian, we trust, is- ' 

1 Papa ! papa ! dearest papa ! ' shouted a young 
lad, as he dashed open the door ; and rushing into 
the room, threw his arms round the Prince's neck. 

* My darling!' said the father, forgetting at this 
moment of genuine feeling, the pompous plural in 
which he had hitherto spoken of himself. The 
Prince fondly kissed his child. The boy was about 
ten years of age, exquisitely handsome. Courage, 
not audacity, was imprinted on his noble features. . 

' Papa! may I hunt with you to-morrow?' 

* What says Mr. Sievers ?' 

* Oh ! Mr. Sievers says I am an excellent fellow ; 
I assure you upon my honour he does. I heard you 
come home ; but though I was dying to see you, I 
would not run out until I had finished my Roman 
History. I say, Papa! what a grand fellow Brutus 
was what a grand thing it is to be a patriot! I 



intend to be a patriot myself, and to kill the Grand 
Duke of Reisenberg. Papa, who's that?' 

' My friend, Max, Mr. Grey. Speak to him.' 

' I am very happy to see you at Turriparva, Sir,' 
said the boy, bowing to Vivian with great dignity. 
' Have you been hunting with his Highness this 

4 I can hardly say I have.' 

4 Max, I have received a slight wound to-day. 
Don't look alarmed it is very slight. I only men- 
tion it, because had it not been for this gentleman, it 
is very probable you would never have seen your 
father again. He has saved my life!' 

* Saved your life! saved my papa's life!' said the 
young Prince, seizing Vivian's hand * Oh ! Sir, 
what can I do for you! Mr. Sievers!' said the boy, 
with great eagerness, to a gentleman who entered the 
room ' Mr. Sievers ! here is a young lord who has 
saved papa's life!' 

Mr. Sievers was a very tall, thin man, perhaps 
about forty, with a clear sallow complexion, a high 
forehead, on which a few wrinkles were visible, very 
bright keen eyes, narrow arched brows, and a quantity 
of grey curling hair, which was combed back off his 
forehead, and fell down over his shoulders. He was 
instantly introduced to Vivian as the Prince's most 
particular friend ; and then he listened, apparently 
with great interest, to his Highness' narrative of the 
morning's adventure ; his danger, and his rescue. 
Young Maximilian never took his large, dark-blue 
eyes off his father while he was speaking ; and when 
he had finished, the boy rushed to Vivian, and threw 
his arms round his neck. Vivian was delighted with 
the affection of the child, who whispered to him in a 
low voice ' I know what you are ! ' 



4 What, my young friend ?' 

c Ah ! I know.' 

'But tell me!' 

' You thought I shouldn't find out : you're a 
patriot ! ' 

' I hope I am,' said Vivian ; * but travelling in a 
foreign country is hardly a proof of it. Perhaps you 
do not know that I am an Englishman.' 

* An Englishman ! ' said the child, with an air of 
great disappointment ' I thought you were a 
patriot! I am one. Do you know I'll tell you a 
secret. You must promise not to tell though. Pro- 
mise upon your word ! Well then,' said the urchin, 
whispering with great energy in Vivian's ear, through 
his hollow fist : * I hate the Grand Duke of Reisen- 
berg, and I mean to stab him to the heart ;' so saying, 
the little Prince grated his teeth with an expression 
of the most bitter detestation. 

' What the devil is the matter with the child ! ' 
thought Vivian ; but at this moment his conversa- 
tion with him was interrupted. 

4 Am I to believe this young gentleman, my dear 
Sievers,' asked the Prince, ' when he tells me that his 
conduct has met your approbation?' 

' Your son, Prince,' answered Mr. Sievers, ' can 
only speak truth. His excellence is proved by my 
praising him to his face.' 

The young Maximilian, when Mr. Sievers had 
ceased speaking, stood blushing, with his eyes fixed 
on the ground ; and the delighted parent catching 
his child up in his arms, embraced him with un- 
affected fondness. 

* And now, all this time Master Rodolph is waiting 
for his patient. By St. Hubert, you can none of you 
think me very ill ! Your pardon, Mr. Grey, for leav- 



ing you. My friend Sievers will, I am sure, be de- 
lighted to make you feel at ease at Turriparva. Max, 
come with me!' 

Vivian found in Mr. Sievers a very interesting 
companion ; nothing of the pedant, and much of the 
philosopher. Their conversation was of course 
chiefly on topics of local interest, anecdotes of the 
castle and the country, of Vivian's friends the 
drunken Johannisberger and his crew, and such 
matters ; but there was a keenness of satire in some 
of Mr. Sievers's observations which was highly amus- 
ing, and enough passed to make Vivian desire oppor- 
tunities of conversing with him at greater length, 
and on subjects of greater interest. They were at 
present disturbed by Essper George entering the 
room to inform Vivian that his luggage had arrived 
from the village ; and that the blue-chamber was now 
prepared for his presence. 

1 We shall meet, I suppose, in the Hall, Mr. 
Sievers ?' 

4 No, I shall not dine there. If you remain at 
Turriparva, which I trust you will, I shall be happy to 
see you in my room. If it have no other inducement 
to gain it the honour of your visit, it has here, at least, 
the recommendation of singularity ; there is, at any 
rate, no other chamber like it in this good castle.' 

The business of the toilet is sooner performed for 
a hunting party in a German forest, than for a state 
dinner at Chateau Desir ; and Vivian was ready long 
before he was summoned. 

* His Serene Highness has commenced his pro- 
gress towards the hall,' announced Essper George to 
Vivian, in a very treble voice, and bowing with great 
ceremony as he offered to lead the way, with a long 
white wand waving in his right hand. 



1 1 shall attend his Highness,' said his master ; 
' but before I do, if that white wand be not 
immediately laid aside, it will be broken about 
your back.' 

c Broken about my back ! what, the wand of office 
of your Highness' steward ! Master Rodolph says 
that, in truth, a steward is but half himself who hath 
not his wand. Methinks when his rod of office is 
wanting, his Highness of Lilliput's steward is but 
unequally divided. In truth he is stout enough to 
be Aaron's wand that swallowed up all the rest. But 
has your Nobleness really any serious objection to my 
carrying a wand? It gives such an air! I really 
thought your Highness could have no serious objec- 
tion. It cost me a good hour's talking with Master 
Rodolph to gain his permission. I was "obliged to 
swear that he was a foot taller than myself, ere he 
would consent ; and then only on the condition that 
my wand should be full twelve inches shorter than his 
own. The more's the pity,' continued Essper : c it 
spoils the sport, and makes me seem but half a 
steward after all. By the honour of my mother! it 
shall go hard with me if I do not pick the pith of his 
rush this night! Twelve inches shorter! you must 
have a conscience, Master Rodolph ! ' 

' Come, come, silence ! and no more of this frip- 

' No, your Highness, not a word, not a word : 
but twelve inches, your Highness twelve inches 
shorter, what do you think of that? Twelve inches 
shorter than Master Rodolph's Master Rodolph, 
forsooth! Master Treble-Paunch! If he had as 
much brains in his head, as he has something else in 
his body, why then, your Highness ' 

* No more, no more ! ' 



* Not a word, not a word, your Highness ! Not a 
word should your Highness ever have heard, but for 
the confounded folly of this goggle-eyed gander of 
a steward: twelve inches, in good truth! Why, 
twelve inches, your Highness twelve inches is no 
trifle twelve inches is a size twelve inches is only 
six shorter than the Grand Duke of Schoss Johannis- 
berger's nose.' 

1 It matters little, Essper, for I shall tolerate no 
such absurdities.' 

' Your Highness is the best judge it isn't for me 
to differ with your Highness. I am not arguing for 
the wand ; I am only saying, your Highness, that if 
that overgrown anchovy, whom they call Master 
Rodolph, had shown a little more sense upon the 
occasion, why then I should have had a better opinion 
of his judgment ; as it is, the day he can tell me the 
morrow of Easter eve, I'll make a house-steward of a 
Michaelmas goose.' 

The Giants' Hall was a Gothic chamber of impos- 
ing appearance. The oaken rafters of the curiously 
carved roof rested on the grim heads of gigantic 
figures of the same material. These statues extended 
the length of the hall on each side ; they were 
elaborately sculptured and highly polished, and each 
one held in its outstretched arm a blazing and aroma- 
tic torch. Above them, small windows of painted 
glass admitted a light which was no longer necessary 
at the banquet to which I am now about to introduce 
the reader. Over the great entrance doors was a 
gallery, from which a band of trumpeters, arrayed in 
ample robes of flowing scarlet, sent forth many a 
festive and martial strain. More than fifty in- 
dividuals, all wearing hunting-dresses of green cloth 
on which the giant's head was carefully emblazoned, 

5 11 


were already seated in the hall when Vivian entered. 
He was conducted to the upper part of the chamber, 
and a seat was allotted him on the left hand of the 
Prince. His Highness had not arrived, but a chair 
of state, placed under a crimson canopy, denoted the 
style of its absent owner ; and a stool, covered with 
velvet of the same regal colour and glistening with 
gold lace, announced that the presence of Prince 
Maximilian was expected. While Vivian was mus- 
ing in astonishment at the evident affectation of royal 
pomp which pervaded the whole establishment of the 
Prince of Little Lilliput, the trumpeters in the gallery 
suddenly commenced a trimphant flourish. All rose 
as the princely procession entered the hall. First 
came Master Rodolph, twirling his white wand with 
the practised pride of a drum-major, and looking as 
pompous as a turkey-cock in a storm. Six footmen 
in splendid liveries, two by two, immediately followed 
him. A page heralded the Prince Maximilian, and 
then came the Serene father ; the Jagd Junker, and 
four or five other gentlemen of the court formed the 

His Highness ascended the throne, Prince Maxi- 
milian was on his right, and Vivian had the high hon- 
our of the left hand ; the Jagd Junker seated himself 
next to our hero. The table was profusely covered, 
chiefly with the sports of the forest, and the cele- 
brated wild boar was not forgotten. Few minutes 
had elapsed ere Vivian perceived that his Highness 
was always served on bended knee. Surprised at 
this custom, which even the mightiest and most de- 
spotic monarchs seldom exact, and still more surprised 
at the contrast which all this state afforded to the 
natural ease and affable amiability of the Prince, 
Vivian ventured to ask his neighbour Arnelm 

5 12 


whether the banquet of to-day was in celebration of 
any particular event of general or individual 

4 By no means,' said the Jagd Junker ; { this is 
the usual style of the Prince's daily meal, except that 
to-day there is perhaps rather less state and fewer 
guests than usual ; in consequence of many of our 
fellow subjects having left us with the purpose of 
attending a great hunting party, which is now being 
held in the dominions of his Highness's cousin, the 
Duke of Micromegas.' 

When the more necessary, but, as most hold, the 
less delightful part of banquetting was over, and the 
numerous serving-men had removed the more 
numerous dishes of wild boar, red deer, kid, and 
winged game ; a stiff Calvinistic-looking personage 
rose, and delivered a long, and most grateful grace, 
to which the sturdy huntsmen listened with a due 
mixture of piety and impatience. When his starch 
Reverence, who in his black coat looked, among the 
huntsmen very like, as Essper George observed, a 
black-bird among a set of moulting canaries, had 
finished, an old man, with long snow-white hair, 
and a beard of the same colour, rose from his seat ; 
and with a glass in his hand, bowing first to his 
Highness with great respect, and then to his com- 
panions with an air of condescension, gave in a stout 
voice, * The Prince ! ' A loud shout was immedia- 
tely raised, and all quaffed with rapture the health of 
a ruler whom evidently they adored. Master 
Rodolph now brought forward an immense silver 
goblet, full of some crafty compound, from its odour 
doubtless delicious. The Prince held the goblet by 
its two massy handles, and then said in a loud 
voice : 

2 * 5*3 


1 My friends ! the Giant's Head ! and he who 
sneers at its frown, may he rue its bristles!' 

The toast was welcomed with a loud cry of 
triumph. When the noise had subsided, the Jagd 
Junker rose ; and prefacing the intended pledge 
by a few observations, as remarkable for the delicacy 
of their sentiments as the elegance of their expres- 
sion, he gave, pointing to Vivian, * The Guest ! and 
may the Prince never want a stout arm at a strong 
push!' The sentiment was again echoed by the 
lusty voices of all present, and particularly by his 
Highness. As Vivian shortly returned thanks and 
modestly apologized for the German of a foreigner, 
he could not refrain from remembering the last time 
when he was placed in the same situation. It was 
when the treacherous Earl of Courtown had drunk 
success to Mr. Vivian Grey's maiden speech in a 
bumper of claret, at the political orgies of Chateau 
Desir. Could he really, in very fact, be the same 
individual as the bold, dashing, fearless youth, who 
then organized the crazy councils of those ambitious, 
imbecile greybeards? What was he then? What 
had happened since ? What was he now ? He turned 
from the comparison with feelings of sickening 
disgust, and it was with difficulty that his counten- 
ance could assume the due degree of hilarity which 
befitted the present occasion. 

4 Truly, Mr. Grey,' said the Prince ; * your Ger- 
man would pass current at Weimar. Arnelm, good 
cousin Arnelm, we must trouble thy affectionate 
duty to marshal and regulate the drinking devoirs of 
our kind subjects to-night ; for by the advice of our 
trusty surgeon, Master Rodolph, of much fame, we 
shall refrain this night from our accustomed pota- 
tions, and betake ourselves to the solitude of our 



Cabinet a solitude in good sooth, unless we can 
persuade you to accompany us, kind Sir,' said the 
Prince, turning to Mr. Grey. * Methinks eight-and- 
forty hours without rest, and a good part spent in 
the mad walls of our cousin of Johannisberger, are 
hardly the best preparatives for a drinking bout. 
Unless, after Oberon's horn, ye may fairly be con- 
sidered to be in practice. Nevertheless, I advise 
the Cabinet and a cup of Rodolph's coffee. What 
sayest thou?' Vivian acceded to the Prince's pro- 
position with eager pleasure ; and accompanied by 
Prince Maximilian, and preceded by the little Stew- 
ard, who, surrounded by his serving-men, very much 
resembled a planet eclipsed by his satellites, they left 
the Hall. 

* 'Tis almost a pity to shut out the moon on such 
a night,' said the Prince, as he drew a large green 
velvet curtain from the windows of the Cabinet. 

' 'Tis certainly a magnificent night ! ' said Vivian ; 
1 How fine the effect of the light is upon the picture 
of the warrior. I declare the horse seems quite 
living, and its fierce rider actually frowns upon 

* He may well frown,' said the Prince of Little 
Lilliput, in a voice of deep melancholy ; and he 
hastily redrew the curtain. In a moment he started 
from the chair on which he had just seated himself, 
and again admitted the moonlight. ' Am I really 
afraid of an old picture? No, no, it has not yet 
come to that.' 

This was uttered in a very distinct voice, and of 
course excited the astonishment of Vivian ; who, 
however, had too much discretion to evince his sur- 
prise, or to take any measure by which his curiosity 
might be satisfied. 



His companion seemed instantly conscious of the 
seeming singularity of his expression. 

* You are surprised at my words, good Sir,' said 
his Highness, as he paced very rapidly up and down 
the small chamber ; ' you are surprised at my words ; 
but, Sir, my ancestor's brow was guarded by a dia- 

' Which was then well won, Prince, and is now 
worthily worn.' 

'By whom? where? how?' asked the Prince, in 
a very rapid voice. ' Maximilian,' continued his 
Highness, in a more subdued tone ; < Maximilian, 
my own love, leave us go to Mr. Sievers God 
bless you, my only boy good night!' 

' Good night, dearest Papa, and down with the 
Grand Duke of Reisenburg!' 

< He echoes the foolish zeal of my fond followers,' 
said the Prince, as his son left the room. * The idle 
parade to which their illegal loyalty still clings my 
own manners, the relics of former days habits will 
not change like stations all these have deceived you, 
Sir. You have mistaken me for a monarch ; I 
should be one. A curse light on me the hour I can 
mention it without a burning blush. Oh, shame! 
shame on the blood of my father's son ! Can my 
mouth own that I once was one? Yes, Sir! you 
see before you the most injured, the least enviable of 
human beings I am a MEDIATISED PRINCE!' 

Vivian had resided too long in Germany to be igno- 
rant of the meaning of this title ; with which, as 
most probably few of my readers are acquainted, I 
may be allowed for a moment to disturb the tete-a- 
tete in the Cabinet merely, as a wordy and windy 
orator preliminarily protests, when he is about to 
bore the house with an harangue of five hours 


merely to say, ' just one single word.' A mediatised 
Prince is an unhappy victim of those Congresses, 
which, among other good and evil, purged with 
great effect the ancient German political system. 
By the regulations then determined on, that country 
was freed at one fell swoop from the vexatious and 
harassing dominion of the various petty Princes who 
exercised absolute sovereignties over little nations of 
fifty thousand souls. These independent sovereigns 
became subjects ; and either swelled, by their media- 
tization, the territories of some already powerful 
potentate, or transmuted into a state of importance 
some more fortunate petty ruler than themselves ; 
whose independence, through the exertions of poli- 
tical intrigue or family influence, had been preserved 
inviolate. In most instances, the concurrence of 
these little rulers in their worldly degradation was 
obtained by a lavish grant of official emoluments or 
increase of territorial possessions, and the media- 
tised prince, instead of being an impoverished and 
uninfluential sovereign, became a wealthy and power- 
ful subject. But so dominant in the heart of man is 
the love of independent dominion, that even with 
these temptations, few of the petty princes could 
have been induced to have parted with their cherished 
sceptres, had they not been conscious, that in case of 
contumacy, the resolutions of a Diet would have been 
enforced by the armies of an Emperor. As it is, 
few of them have yet given up the outward and 
visible signs of regal sway. The throne is still pre- 
served, and the tiara still revered. They seldom fre- 
quent the Courts of their sovereigns, and scarcely 
condescend to notice the attentions of their fellow- 
nobility. Most of them expend their increased 
revenues in maintaining the splendour of their little 


courts at their ancient capitals ; or in swelling the 
ranks of their retainers at their solitary forest castles. 

The Prince of Little Lilliput was the first media- 
tised sovereign that Vivian had ever met. At an- 
other time, and under other circumstances, he might 
have smiled at the idle parade and useless pomp 
which he had this day witnessed ; or moralized on 
that weakness of human nature which seemed to con- 
sider the inconvenient appendages of a throne, as 
the great end for which power was to be coveted : 
but at the present moment he only saw a kind, and, 
as he believed, estimable individual disquieted and 
distressed. It was painful to witness the agitation 
of the Prince ; and Vivian felt it necessary to make 
some observations, which from his manner expressed 
much, though in fact they meant nothing. 

* Sir,' said his Highness ; * your sympathy consoles 
me. Do not imagine that I can misunderstand it 
it does you honour. You add, by this, to the many 
favours you have already conferred on me, by saving 
my life and accepting my hospitality. I trust, I sin- 
cerely hope, that your departure hence will be post- 
poned to the last possible moment. Your conversa- 
tion and your company, have made me pass a more 
cheerful day than I am accustomed to. All here love 
me ; but with the exception of Sievers, I have no 
companion ; and although I esteem his principles and 
his talents, there is no congeniality in our tastes, or 
in our tempers. As for the rest, a more devoted 
band cannot be conceived ; but they think only of 
one thing the lost dignity of their ruler ; and al- 
though this concentration of their thoughts on one 
subject may gratify my pride, it does not elevate my 
spirits. But this is a subject on which in future we 
will not converse. One of the curses of my unhappy 



lot is, that a thousand circumstances daily occur which 
prevent me forgetting it.' 

The Prince rose from the table, and pressing with 
his right hand on part of the wall, the door of a small 
closet sprung open. The interior was lined with 
crimson velvet. He took out of it a cushion of the 
same regal material, on which reposed, in solitary 
magnificence, a golden coronet of antique workman- 

' The crown of my fathers ! ' said his Highness, as 
he placed the treasure, with great reverence, on the 
table ; * won by fifty battles and lost without a blow ! 
Yet, in my youth I was deemed no dastard ; and I 
have shed more blood for my country in one day, 
than he who claims to be my suzerain, in the whole of 
his long career of undeserved prosperity. Ay ! this, 
this is the curse the ancestor of my present sove- 
reign was that warrior's serf!' The Prince pointed 
to the grim chieftain, whose stout helmet Vivian now 
perceived was encircled by a crown, exactly similar to 
the one which was now lying before him. < Had I 
been the subject had I been obliged to acknowledge 
the sway of a Caesar, I might have endured it with re- 
signation : had I been forced to yield to the legions 
of an Emperor, a noble resistance might have con- 
soled me for the clanking of my chains ; but to sink 
without a struggle, the victim of political intrigue 
to become the bondsman of one who was my father's 
slave ; for such was Reisenburg even in my own 
remembrance, our unsuccessful rival. This, this was 
too bad ; it rankles in my heart ; and unless I can be 
revenged, I shall sink under it. To have lost my 
dominions would have been nothing. But revenge 
I will have! It is yet in my power to gain for an 
enslaved people, the liberty I have myself lost. Yes ! 


the enlightened spirit of the age shall yet shake the 
quavering councils of the Reisenburg cabal. I will, 
in truth I have already seconded the just, the unan- 
swerable, demands of an oppressed and insulted 
people ; and ere six months are over, I trust to see 
the convocation of a free and representative council, 
in the capital of the petty monarch to whom I have 
been betrayed. The chief of Reisenburg has, in his 
eagerness to gain his grand ducal crown, somewhat 
overstepped the mark. 

4 Besides myself, there are no less than three other 
powerful princes, whose dominions have been de- 
voted to the formation of his servile Duchy. We 
are all animated by the same spirit, all intent upon 
the same end. We have all used, and are using, our 
influence as powerful nobles, to gain for our fellow- 
subjects their withheld rights, rights which belong 
to them as men, not merely as Germans. Within 
this week I have forwarded to the Residence a 
memorial subscribed by myself, my relatives, the 
other princes, and a powerful body of discontented 
nobles ; requesting the immediate grant of a consti- 
tution similar to those of Wirtemburg and Bavaria. 
My companions in misfortune are inspirited by my 
joining them. Had I been wise, I should have 
joined them sooner ; but until this moment, I have 
been the dupe of the artful conduct of an unprin- 
cipled Minister. My eyes, however, are now open. 
The Grand Duke and his crafty counsellor, whose 
name shall not profane my lips, already tremble. 
Part of the people, emboldened by our representa- 
tions, have already refused to answer an unconstitu- 
tional taxation. - I have no doubt that he must yield. 
Whatever may be the inclination of the Courts of 
Vienna or St. Petersburg, rest assured that the liberty 



of Germany will meet with no opponent except 
political intrigue ; and that Metternich is too well 
acquainted with the spirit which is now only slumber- 
ing in the bosom of the German nation, to run the 
slightest risk of exciting it by the presence of foreign 
legions. No, no! that mode of treatment may do 
very well for Naples, or Poland, or Spain ; but the 
moment that a Croat or a Cossack shall encamp upon 
the Rhine or the Elbe, for the purpose of supporting 
the unadulterated tyranny of their new-fangled Grand 
Dukes, that moment Germany becomes a great and 
united nation. The greatest enemy of the prosper- 
ity of Germany is the natural disposition of her sons ; 
but that disposition, while it does now, and may for 
ever, hinder us from being a great people, will at the 
same time infallibly prevent us from ever becoming 
a degraded one.' 

At this moment, this moment of pleasing anticipa- 
tion of public virtue and private revenge, Master 
Rodolph entered, and prevented Vivian from gaining 
any details of the history of his host. The little 
round steward informed his master that a horseman 
had just arrived, bearing for his Highness a dispatch 
of importance, which he insisted upon delivering into 
the Prince's own hands. 

* Whence comes he ?' asked his Highness. 

' In truth, your Serene Highness, that were hard 
to say, inasmuch as the messenger refuses to inform 

' Admit him.' 

A man whose jaded looks proved that he had 
travelled far that day, was soon ushered into the 
room ; and bowing to the Prince, delivered to him, 
in silence, a letter. 

' From whom conies this?' asked the Prince. 


* It will itself inform your Highness,' was the only 

' My friend, you are a trusty messenger, and have 
been well trained. Rodolph, look that this gentle- 
man be well lodged and attended.' 

{ I thank your Highness,' said the messenger, ' but 
I do not tarry here. I wait no answer, and my only 
purpose in seeing you was to perform my commission 
to the letter, by delivering this paper into your own 

* As you please, Sir ; you must be the best judge 
of your own time ; but we like not strangers to leave 
our gates while our drawbridge is yet echoing with 
their entrance steps.' 

The Prince and Vivian were again alone. Aston- 
ishment and agitation were very visible on his High- 
ness' countenance as he dashed his eye over the letter. 
At length he folded it up, put it into his breast- 
pocket, and tried to resume conversation ; but the 
effort was both evident and unsuccessful. In another 
moment the letter was again taken out, and again 
read with not less emotion than accompanied its first 

4 1 fear I have wearied you, Mr. Grey,' said his 
Highness ; < It was inconsiderate in me not to re- 
member that you require repose.' 

Vivian was not sorry to have an opportunity of 
retiring, so he quickly took the hint, and wished his 
Highness agreeable dreams. 


"f| J Oil!! 

No one but an adventurous traveller can know the 
luxury of sleep. There is not a greater fallacy in the 
world than the common creed that < sweet sleep is 



labour's guerdon.' Mere regular, corporeal labour 
certainly procures us a good, sound, refreshing slum- 
ber, disturbed often by the consciousness of the 
monotonous duties of the morrow : but how sleep 
the other great labourers of this laborious world? 
Where is the sweet sleep of the politician? After 
hours of fatigue in his office, and hours of exhaustion 
in the House, he gains his pillow ; and a brief, fever- 
ish night, disturbed by the triumph of a cheer and the 
horrors of a reply. Where is the sweet sleep of the 
poet, or the novelist? We all know how harassing 
are the common dreams which are made up of inco- 
herent images of our daily life, in which the actors 
are individuals that we know, and whose conduct 
generally appears to be regulated by principles which 
we can comprehend. How much more enervating 
and destroying must be the slumber of that man who 
dreams of an imaginary world! waking, with a 
heated and excited spirit, to mourn over some im- 
pressive incident of the night, which is nevertheless 
forgotten ; or to collect some inexplicable plot which 
has been revealed in sleep, and has fled from the 
memory as the eyelids have opened. Where is the 
sweet sleep of the artist? of the lawyer? Where, 
indeed, of any human being to whom to-morrow 
brings its necessary duties? Sleep is the enemy of 
Care, and Care is the constant companion of regular 
labour, mental or bodily. 

But your traveller, your adventurous traveller 
careless of the future, reckless of the past with a 
mind interested by the world, from the immense and 
various character which that world presents to him, 
and not by his own stake in any petty or particular 
contingency; wearied by delightful fatigue, daily 
occasioned by varying means, and from varying 



causes ; with the consciousness that no prudence can 
regulate the fortunes of the morrow, and with no 
curiosity to discover what those fortunes may be, 
from a conviction that it is utterly impossible to as- 
certain them ; perfectly easy whether he lie in a 
mountain-hut or a royal palace ; and reckless alike of 
the terrors and chances of storm and bandits ; seeing 
that he has as fair a chance of meeting both with 
security and enjoyment this is the fellow who, 
throwing his body upon a down couch or his mule's 
packsaddle, with equal eagerness and equal sang- 
froid, sinks into a repose, in which he is never re- 
minded by the remembrance of an appointment or an 
engagement for the next day, a duel, a marriage, or a 
dinner, the three perils of man, that he has the mis- 
fortune of being mortal ; and wakes, not to combat 
care, but only to feel that he is fresher and more 
vigorous than he was the night before ; and that 
come what come may, he is, at any rate, sure this day 
of seeing different faces, and of improvising his un- 
premeditated part upon a different scene. 

I have now both philosophically accounted, and 
politely apologized, for the loud and unfashionable 
snore which sounded in the blue chamber about five 
minutes after Vivian Grey had entered that most 
comfortable apartment. In about twelve hours time 
he was scolding Essper George for having presumed 
to wake him so early, quite unconscious that he had 
enjoyed any thing more than a twenty minutes' 

4 1 should not have come in, Sir, only they are all 
out. They were off by six o'clock this morning, 
Sir ; most part at least. The Prince has gone ; I 
don't know whether he went with them, but Master 
Rodolph has given me I breakfasted with Master 



Rodolph. Holy Virgin! your Highness, what 
quarters we have got into ; the finest venison pasties, 
corned beef, hare soup, cherry sauce ' 

' To the point, to the point, my good Essper ; 
what of the Prince?' 

' His Highness has left the Castle, and desired 
Master Rodolph if your Grace had only seen 
Master Rodolph tipsy last night : hah ! hah ! hah ! 
he rolled about like a turbot in a tornado.' 

* What of the Prince, Essper ; what of the 
Prince ?' 

' His Highness, your Grace, has left the Castle ; 
and Master Rodolph, who, by the bye ' 

* No more of Master Rodolph, Sir ; what of the 

Your Highness won't hear me. The Prince de- 
sired Master Rodolph if your Highness had only 
seen him last night I beg pardon, I beg par- 
don the Prince, God bless him for his breakfast ; 
the finest venison pasties, corned beef, hare soup, 
cherry sauce I beg pardon, I beg pardon the 
Prince desired this letter to be given to your High- 

Vivian read the note, which supposed that, of 
course, he would not wish to join the chase this 
morning, and regretted that the writer was obliged 
to ride out for a few hours to visit a neighbouring 
nobleman, but requested the pleasure of his guest's 
company at a private dinner in the Cabinet, on his 

After breakfast Vivian called on Mr. Sievers. He 
found that gentleman busied in his library. 

' These are companions, Mr. Grey,' said he, point- 
ing to his well-stored shelves, * that I ever find 
interesting. I hope, from the mysterious account of 



my retreat which I gave you yesterday, that you did 
not expect to be introduced to the sanctum of an old 
conjuror ; but the truth is, the cell of a magician 
could not excite more wonder at Turriparva than 
does the library of a scholar.' 

' I assure you, Sir,' said Vivian, < that nothing in 
the world could give me greater pleasure than to pass 
a morning with you in this retreat. Though born 
and bred in a library, my life, for the last two years, 
has been of so very adventurous a nature, that I have 
seldom had the opportunity of recurring to those 
studies which once alone occupied my thoughts : and 
your collection, too, is quite after my heart Politics 
and Philosophy.' 

Vivian was sincere in his declaration, and he had 
not for a long time passed a couple of hours with 
more delight than he did this morning with Mr. 
Sievers ; who, at the same time that he was a perfect 
master of principles, was also a due reverencer of 
facts : a philosophical antiquarian, in the widest and 
worthiest acceptation of the title ; one who extracted 
from his deep knowledge of the past, beneficial in- 
struction for the present. 

* Come,' said Mr. Sievers, c enough of the super- 
stitions of the middle ages; after all, superstition 
is a word that it hardly becomes a philosopher to use : 
nothing is more fatal in disquisition than terms which 
cannot be defined, and to which different meanings 
are attached, according to the different sentiments of 
different persons. A friend of mine once promised 
to give us a volume on " The Modes of Belief of the 
Middle Ages." I always thought it a very delicate 
and happy title, a most philosophically-chosen phrase. 
I augured well of the volume ; but it has never ap- 
peared. Some men are great geniuses at a title-page ! 



And to give a good title to a book does, indeed, re- 
quire genius. I remember when I was a student at 
Leipsic, there was an ingenious bookseller in that city 
who was a great hand at title-making. He pub- 
lished every year magnificent lists of works " in the 
press." At first, these catalogues produced an im- 
mense sensation throughout Germany, since there 
was scarcely a subject that could possibly interest 
mankind, which was not to be discussed in a forth- 
coming volume. The list always regularly began 
with an epic poem : it as regularly contained some 
learned history, in ten volumes, quarto a grand 
tragedy a first-rate historical novel works on 
criticism, natural philosophy, general literature, 
politics, and on every other subject that you can 
possibly conceive, down to a new almanack for the 
coming year. Not one of these works ever appeared. 
Such treatment, after our appetites had been so 
keenly excited, was really worse than the Barmecide's 
conduct to the Barber's brother. It was like asking 
a party of men to dine with you at some Restaura- 
teur's in the Palais Royal, and then presenting to 
each of them for dinner a copy of the carte.' 
* You never hunt, I suppose, Mr. Sievers?' 
4 Never, never. His Highness is, I imagine, out 
this morning ; the beautiful weather continues ; 
surely we never had such a season. As for myself, 
I almost have given up my in-door pursuits. The 
sun is not the light of study. Let us take our caps, 
and have a stroll.' 

The gentlemen accordingly left the library, and 
proceeding through a different gate to that by which 
Vivian had entered the castle, they came upon a part 
of the forest in which the timber and brushwood had 
been in a great measure cleared away ; large clumps 



of trees being left standing on an artificial lawn, and 
newly-made roads winding about in pleasing irregu- 
larity until they were all finally lost in the encircling 

* I think you told me,' said Mr. Sievers, * that 
you had been long in Germany. What course do 
you think of taking from here?' 

' Straight to Vienna.' 

< Ah ! a delightful place. If, as I suppose to be 
the case, you are fond of dissipation and luxury, 
Vienna is to be preferred to any city with which I am 
acquainted. And intellectual companions are not 
wanting there, as some have said. There are one or 
two houses in which the literary soirees will yield 
to none in Europe ; and I prefer them to any, because 
there is less pretension, and more ease. The Arch- 
duke John is really a man of considerable talents, 
and of more considerable acquirements. A most ad- 
mirable geologist! Are you fond of geology?' 

4 1 am not the least acquainted with the science.' 

4 Naturally so at your age if, in fact, we study at 
all, we are fond of fancying ourselves moral philo- 
sophers, and our study is mankind. Trust me, my 
dear Sir, it is a branch of research soon exhausted ; 
and in a few years you will be very glad, for want of 
something else to do, to meditate upon stones. See 
now,' said Mr. Sievers, picking up a stone, ' to what 
associations does this little piece of quartz give rise! 
I am already an antediluvian, and instead of a stag 
bounding by that wood, I witness the moving mass 
of a mammoth. I live in other worlds which, at the 
same time, I have the advantage of comparing with 
the present. Geology is indeed a magnificent study ! 
What excites more the imagination? What exer- 
cises more the mind? Can you conceive any thing 



sublimer than the gigantic shadows, and the grim 
wreck of an antediluvian world? Can you devise 
any plan which will more brace our powers and 
develope our mental energies, than the formation of 
a perfect chain of inductive reasoning to account for 
these phenomena ? What is the boasted communion 
which the vain poet holds with Nature, compared 
with the conversation which the geologist perpetu- 
ally carries on with the elemental world? Gazing 
on the strata of the earth, he reads the fate of his 
species. In the undulations of the mountains is re- 
vealed to him the history of the past ; and in the 
strength of rivers, and the powers of the air, he dis- 
covers the fortunes of the future. To him, indeed, 
that future, as well as the past and the present, are 

alike matter for meditation : for the geologist is the 

. /. r , b . b 

most satisfactory or antiquarians, the most interesting 

of philosophers, and the most inspired of prophets ; 
demonstrating that which has past by discovery, 
that which is occurring by observation, and that 
which is to come by induction. When you go to 
Vienna I will give you a letter to Frederic Schlegel ; 
we were fellow-students, and are friends, though for 
various reasons we do not at present meet ; never- 
theless a letter from me will command proper respect. 
I should advise you, however, before you go on to 
Vienna to visit Reisenburg.' 

( Indeed ! from the Prince's account I should 
have thought that there was little to interest me 

' His Highness is not an impartial judge. You 
are probably acquainted with the disagreeable man- 
ner in which he is connected with that Court. Far 
from his opinion being correct, or his advice in this 
particular to be followed, I should say there are few 

2L 529 


places in Germany more worthy of a visit than the 
little Court near us ; and above all things in the 
world, my advice is that you should not pass it 

* I am inclined to follow your advice. You are 
right in supposing that I am not ignorant that his 
Highness has the misfortune of being a mediatised 
Prince ; but what is the exact story about him ? I 
have heard some odd rumours, some vague expres- 
sions, some ' 

4 Oh ! don't you know it all ? It's a curious story, 
but I'm afraid you'll find it rather long. Neverthe- 
less, if you really visit Reisenburg, it may be of use 
to you to know something of the singular characters 
you will meet there ; and our present conversation, 
if it do not otherwise interest you will, at least on 
this score, give you all requisite information. In the 
first place, you say you know that Little Lilliput is 
a mediatised Prince ; and, of course, are precisely 
aware what that title means. About fifty years ago, 
the rival of the illustrious family, in whose chief 
castle we are both of us now residing, was the Mar- 
grave of Reisenberg, another petty Prince, with ter- 
ritories not so extensive as those of our friend, and 
with a population more limited : perhaps fifty thou- 
sand souls, half of whom were drunken cousins. The 
old Margrave of Reisenberg who then reigned, was 
a perfect specimen of the old-fashioned, narrow- 
minded, brutal, bigoted, German Prince ; he did 
nothing but hunt, and drink, and think of the ten 
thousand quarterings of his immaculate shield, all 
duly acquired from some Vandal ancestor as barbarous 
as himself. His little Margravinate was mis- 
governed enough for a great Empire. Half of his 
nation, who were his real people, were always starv- 



ing, and were unable to find crown pieces to maintain 
the extravagant expenditure of the other moiety, 
the five-and-twenty thousand cousins ; who, out of 
gratitude to their fellow-subjects for their generous 
support, or as a punishment for their unreasonable 
unwillingness to starve, in order that the cousins 
might drink, harassed them with every species of 
brutal excess. Complaints were of course immedi- 
ately made to the Margrave, and loud cries for justice 
resounded at the palace gates. This Prince was a 
most impartial chief magistrate ; he prided himself 
especially upon his " invariable " principles of justice, 
and he allowed nothing to influence or corrupt his 
decisions. His infallible plan for arranging all differ- 
ences had the merit of being brief ; and if brevity 
be the soul of wit, it certainly was most unreasonable 
in his subjects to consider his judgments no joke. 
He always counted the quarterings in the shields 
of the respective parties, and decided accordingly. 
Imagine the speedy redress gained by a muddy- 
veined peasant against one of the cousins ; who, of 
course, had as many quarterings as the Margrave him- 
self. The defendant was always regularly acquitted. 
At length, a man's house having been burnt down out 
of mere joke in the night, the owner had the temerity 
in the morning to accuse one of the five-and-twenty 
thousand ; and produced, at the same time, a shield 
with ten thousand and one quarterings, exactly one 
more than the reigning shield itself contained. The 
Margrave was astounded, the nation in raptures, and 
the five-and-twenty thousand cousins in despair. 
The complainant's shield was examined and counted, 
and not a flaw discovered. What a dilemma ! The 
chief magistrate consulted with the numerous branches 
of his family, and the next morning the complain- 

ant's head was struck off for high treason, for daring 
to have one more quartering than his monarch! 

' In this way they passed their time about fifty 
years since in Reisenburg : occasionally, for the sake 
of variety, declaring war against the inhabitants of 
Little Lilliput ; who, to say the truth, in their habits 
and pursuits did not materially differ from their 
neighbours. The Margrave had one son, the pre- 
sent Grand Duke. A due reverence of the great 
family shield, and a full acquaintance with the " in- 
variable principles " of justice were early instilled 
into him ; and the royal stripling made such rapid 
progress under the tuition of his amiable parent, that 
he soon became highly popular with his five-and- 
twenty thousand cousins. At length his popularity 
became troublesome to his father ; and so the old 
Margrave sent for his son one morning, and informed 
him that he had dreamed the preceding night that 
the air of Reisenburg was peculiarly unwholesome 
for young persons, and therefore he begged him to 
get out of his dominions as soon as possible. The 
young prince had no objection to see something of 
the world, and so with dutiful affection he immedi- 
ately complied with the royal order, without putting 
his cousins' loyalty to the test. He flew to a relative 
whom he had never before visited. This nobleman 
was one of those individuals who anticipate their age, 
which, by the bye, Mr. Grey, none but noblemen 
should do ; for he who anticipates his century, is 
generally persecuted when living, and is always pil- 
fered when dead. Howbeit, this relation was a 
philosopher ; all about him thought him mad ; he, 
in return, thought all about him fools. He sent the 
Prince to an University, and gave him for a tutor, a 
young man about ten years older than his pupil. 



This person's name was Beckendorff. You will hear 
more of him. 

' About three years after the sudden departure of 
the young Prince, the old Margrave his rather, and 
the then reigning Prince of Little Lilliput, shot each 
other through the head in a drunken brawl, after a 
dinner given in honour of a proclamation of peace 
between the two countries. The five-and-twenty 
thousand cousins were not much grieved, as they 
anticipated a fit successor in their former favourite. 
Splendid preparations were made for the reception of 
the inheritor of ten thousand quarterings, and all 
Reisenburg was poured out to witness the triumph- 
ant entrance of their future monarch. At last two 
horsemen, in plain dresses, and on very indifferent 
steeds, rode up to the palace-gates, dismounted, and 
without making any enquiry, ordered the attendance 
of some of the chief nobility in the presence-chamber. 
One of them, a young man, without any preparatory 
explanation introduced the Reisenburg chieftains to 
his companion as his Prime Minister ; and com- 
manded them immediately to deliver up their porte- 
feuilles and golden keys to Mr. Beckendorff. The 
nobles were in dismay, and so astounded that they 
made no resistance ; though the next morning they 
started in their beds, when they remembered that they 
had delivered their insignia of office to a man without 
a von before his name. They were soon, however, 
roused from their sorrow and their stupor, by receiv- 
ing a peremptory order to quit the palace ; and as 
they retired from the walls which they had long con- 
sidered as their own, they had the mortification of 
meeting crowds of the common people, their slaves 
and their victims, hurrying with joyful countenances 
and triumphant looks to the palace of their Prince ; 



in consequence of an energetic proclamation for the 
redress of grievances, and an earnest promise to 
decide cases in future without examining the quarter- 
ings of the parties. In a week's time the five-and- 
twenty thousand cousins were all adrift. At length 
they conspired, but the conspiracy was tardy they 
found their former servants armed, and they joined in 
a most unequal struggle ; for their opponents were 
alike animated with hopes of the future, and with 
revenge for the past. The cousins got well beat, and 
this was not the worst ; for Beckendorff took advan- 
tage of this unsuccessful treason, which he had him- 
self fomented, and forfeited all their estates ; de- 
stroying in one hour the foul system which had 
palsied, for so many years, the energies of his master's 
subjects. In time, many of the chief nobility were 
restored to their honours and estates ; but the power 
with which they were again invested was greatly 
modified, and the privileges of the Commons greatly 
increased. At this moment the French Revolution 
broke out the French crossed the Rhine and carried 
all before them ; and the Prince of Little Lilliput, 
among other true Germans, made a bold but fruitless 
resistance. The Margrave of Reisenburg, on the 
contrary, received the enemy with open arms he 
raised a larger body of troops than his due contingent, 
and exerted himself in every manner to second the 
views of the Great Nation. In return for his ser- 
vices he was presented with the conquered principal- 
ity of Little Lilliput, and some other adjoining lands ; 
and the Margravinate of Reisenburg, with an in- 
creased territory and population, and governed with 
consummate wisdom, began to be considered the 
most flourishing of the petty states in the quarter of 
the empire to which it belonged. On the contrary, 



our princely and patriotic friend, mortified by the 
degenerate condition of his country and the prosperity 
of his rival house, quitted Little Lilliput, and became 
one of those emigrant princes who abounded during 
the first years of the Revolution in all the northern 
courts of Europe. Napoleon soon appeared upon 
the stage ; and vanquished Austria, with the French 
dictating at the gates of her capital, was no longer in 
a condition to support the dignity of the Empire. 
The policy of the Margrave of Reisenburg was as 
little patriotic, and quite as consistent, as before. 
Beckendorff became the constant and favoured coun- 
sellor of the French Emperor. It was chiefly by his 
exertions that the celebrated Confederation of the 
Rhine was carried into effect. The institution of 
this body excited among many Germans, at the time, 
loud expressions of indignation ; but I believe few 
impartial and judicious men now look upon that 
league as any other than one, in the formation of 
which the most consummate statesmanship was ex- 
hibited. In fact it prevented the subjugation of Ger- 
many to France, and by flattering the pride of 
Napoleon, it saved the decomposition of our Empire. 
But how this might be, it is not at present necessary 
for us to enquire. Certain, however, it was, that the 
pupil of Beckendorff was amply repaid for the advice 
and exertions of his master and his Minister; and 
when Napoleon fell, the brows of the former Mar- 
grave were encircled with a grand-ducal crown ; and 
his duchy, while it contained upwards of a million 
and a half of inhabitants, numbered in its 
limits some of the most celebrated cities in 
Germany, and many of Germany's most flourishing 
provinces. But Napoleon fell. The Prince of 
Little Lilliput and his companions in patriot- 



ism and misfortune returned from their exile, 
panting with hope and vengeance. A Congress was 
held to settle the affairs of agitated Germany. 
Where was the Grand Duke of Reisenburg? His 
hard-earned crown tottered on his head. Where 
was his crafty Minister, the supporter of revolution- 
ary France, the friend of its Imperial enslaver, the 
constant enemy of the House of Austria? At the 
very Congress which, according to the expectations of 
the exiled Princes, was to restore them to their own 
dominions, and to reward their patriotic loyalty with 
the territories of their revolutionary brethren ; yes ! 
at this very congress was Beckendorff ; not as a 
suppliant, not as a victim ; but seated at the right 
hand of Metternich, and watching, with parental 
affection, the first interesting and infantine move- 
ments of that most prosperous of political bantlings 
the Holy Alliance. You may well imagine that 
the military Grand Duke had a much better chance 
in political negociation than the emigrant Prince. 
In addition to this, the Grand Duke of Reisenburg 
had married, during the war, a Princess of a powerful 
House ; and the allied Sovereigns were eager to gain 
the future aid nnd constant co-operation of a mind 
like BeckendorfPs. The Prince of Little Lilliput, 
the patriot, was rewarded for his conduct by being 
restored to his forfeited possessions ; and the next 
day he became the subject of his former enemy, the 
Grand Duke of Reisenburg, the traitor. What think 
you of Monsieur Beckendorff? He must be a 
curious gentleman, I imagine?' 

4 One of the most interesting characters I have 
long heard of. But his pupil appears to be a man of 

* You shall hear, you shall hear. I should how- 


ever first mention, that while Beckendorff has not 
scrupled to resort to any measures, or adopt any 
opinions in order to further the interests of his mon- 
arch and his country, he has in every manner shown 
that persona] aggrandisement has never been his ob- 
ject. He lives in the most perfect retirement, 
scarcely with an attendant, and his moderate official 
stipend amply supports his more moderate expendi- 
ture. The subjects of the Grand Duke may well be 
grateful that they have a Minister without relations, 
and without favourites. The Grand Duke is, un- 
questionably, a man of talents ; but at the same time, 
perhaps, one of the most weak-minded men that ever 
breathed. He was fortunate in meeting with Beck- 
endorff early in life ; and as the influence of the 
Minister has not for a moment ceased over the mind 
of the Monarch, to the world, the Grand Duke of 
Reisenburg has always appeared to be an individual 
of a strong mind and consistent conduct. But whdn 
you have lived as much, and as intimately in his court 
as I have done, you will find how easily the world 
may be deceived. Since the close connexion which 
now exists between Reisenburg and Austria took 
place, Beckendorff has, in a great degree, revived the 
ancient privileges of blood and birth. A Minister 
who has sprung from the people will always conciliate 
the aristocracy. Having no family influence of his 
own, he endeavours to gain the influence of others ; 
and it often happens that merit is never less con- 
sidered, than when merit has made the Minister. A 
curious instance of this occurs in a neighbouring 
state. There the Premier, decidedly a man of great 
talents, is of as low an origin as Beckendorff. With 
no family to uphold him, he supports himself by a 
lavish division of all the places and patronage of the 




state among the nobles. If the younger son or 
brother of a peer dare to sully his oratorical virginity 
by a chance observation in the Lower Chamber, the 
Minister, himself a real orator, immediately rises to 
congratulate in pompous phrase, the House and the 
Country on the splendid display which has made this 
night memorable ; and on the decided advantages 
which must accrue both to their own resolutions and 
the national interests, from the future participation of 
his noble friend in their deliberations. All about 
him are young nobles, utterly unfit for the discharge 
of their respective duties. His private Secretary is 
unable to coin a sentence, almost to direct a letter, 
but he is noble! The secondary officials cannot be 
trusted even in the least critical conjunctures, but 
they are noble ! And the Prime Minister of a power- 
ful Empire is forced to rise early and be up late ; not 
to meditate on the present fortunes or future destinies 
of his country, but by his personal exertions, to com- 
pensate for the inefficiency and expiate the blunders 
of his underlings, whom his unfortunate want of 
blood has forced him to overwhelm with praises which 
they do not deserve, and duties which they cannot 
discharge. I do not wish you to infer that the policy 
of Beckendorff has been actuated by the feelings 
which influence the Minister whom I have noticed, 
from whose conduct in this very respect his own 
materially differs. On the contrary, his connexion 
with Austria is in all probability the primary great 
cause. However this may be, certain it is, that all 
offices about the Court and connected with the army, 
(and I need not remind you, that at a small German 
Court these situations are often the most important 
in the State), can only be filled by the nobility ; nor 
can any person who has the misfortune of not in- 



heriting the magical monosyllable von before his 
name, which, as you know, like the French de, is the 
shibboleth of nobility, and the symbol of territorial 
pride, violate by their unhallowed presence the sanc- 
tity of Court dinners, or the as sacred ceremonies of 
a noble fete. But while a monopoly of those offices 
which for their due performance require only a showy 
exterior or a schooled address, is granted to the nobles, 
all those state charges which require the exercise of 
intellect, are now chiefly filled by the bourgeoisie. 
At the same time, however, that both our Secretaries 
of State, many of our privy Councillors, war Council- 
lors, forest Councillors, and finance Councillors, are 
to be reckoned among the second-class, still not one 
of these exalted individuals, who from their situations 
are necessarily in constant personal communication 
with the Sovereign, ever see that Sovereign except in 
his Cabinet and his Council-chamber. Beckendorff 
himself, the Premier, is the son of a peasant ; and of 
course not noble. Nobility, which has been prof- 
fered him, not only by his own monarch, but by most 
of the sovereigns of Europe, he has invariably re- 
fused ; and consequently never appears at Court. 
The truth is, that, from disposition, he is little in- 
clined to mix with men ; and he has taken advantage 
of his want of an escutcheon, completely to exempt 
himself from all those duties of etiquette which his 
exalted situation would otherwise have imposed upon 
him. None can complain of the haughtiness of the 
nobles, when, ostensibly, the Minister himself is not 
exempted from their exclusive regulations. If you 
go to Reisenburg, you will not therefore see Becken- 
dorff, who lives, as I have mentioned, in perfect soli- 
tude, about thirty miles from the capital ; communi- 
cating only with his Royal master, the foreign Minis- 




ters, and one or two official characters of his own 
country. I was myself an inmate of the Court for 
upwards of two years. During that time I never 
saw the Minister ; and, with the exception of some 
members of the royal family, and the characters I have 
mentioned, I never knew one person who had even 
caught a glimpse of the individual, who may indeed 
be said to be regulating their destinies. 

' It is at the Court, then,' continued Mr. Sievers, 
' when he is no longer under the control of Becken- 
dorff, and in those minor points which are not sub- 
jected to the management or influenced by the mind 
of the Minister, that the true character of the Grand 
Duke is to be detected. Indeed it may really be said, 
that the weakness of his mind has been the origin of 
his fortune. In his early youth, his pliant temper 
adapted itself without a struggle to the barbarous 
customs and the brutal conduct of his father's Court : 
that same pliancy of temper prevented him opposing 
with bigoted obstinancy the exertions of his relation 
to educate and civilise him ; that same pliancy of 
temper allowed him to become the ready and the en- 
thusiastic disciple of Beckendorff. Had the pupil, 
when he ascended the throne, left his master behind 
him, it is very probable that his natural feelings 
would have led him to oppose the French ; and at 
this moment, instead of being the first of the second- 
rate powers of Germany, the Grand Duke of Rei sen- 
burg might himself have been a mediatised Prince. 
As it was, the same pliancy of temper which I have 
noticed, enabled him to receive Napoleon, when an 
Emperor, with outstretched arms ; and at this 
moment does not prevent him from receiving, with 
equal rapture, the Imperial Archduchess, who will 
soon be on her road from Vienna to espouse his son 



for, to crown his wonderful career, Beckendorff 
has successfully negotiated a marriage between a 
daughter of the house of Austria and the Crown 
Prince* of Reisenburg. It is generally believed that 
the next step of the Diet will be to transmute the 
father's Grand Ducal coronet into a Regal crown ; 
and perhaps, my good Sir, before you reach Vienna, 
you may have the supreme honour of being presented 
to his Majesty the King of Reisenburg.' 

' Beckendorff's career, you may well style wonder- 
ful. But when you talk only of his pupil's pliancy 
of temper, am I to suppose, that in mentioning his 
talents you were speaking ironically?' 

' By no means ! The Grand Duke is a brilliant 
scholar ; a man of refined taste ; a real patron of the 
fine arts ; a lover of literature ; a promoter of 
science ; and what the world would call a philo- 
sopher. His judgment is sound, and generally cor- 
rect his powers of discrimination singularly acute 
and his knowledge of mankind greater than that 
of most sovereigns : but with all these advantages, 
he is cursed with such a wavering and indecisive 
temper, that when, which is usually the case, he has 
come to a right conclusion, he can never prevail upon 
himself to carry his theory into practice ; and with 
all his acuteness, his discernment, and his knowledge 
of the world, his mind is always ready to receive any 
impression from the person who last addresses him ; 
though he himself be fully aware of the inferiority 
of his adviser's intellect to his own, or the imper- 


* Hereditary Prince is, I believe, in all cases, the correct style of 
the eldest son of a German Grand Duke. I have not used a title 
which would not be understood by the English Reader. Crown 
Prince is also a German title ; but, in strictness, only assumed by 
the son of a King. 



fection of that adviser's knowledge. Never for a 
moment out of the sight of Beckendorff, the royal 
pupil has made a most admirable political puppet ; 
since his own talents have always enabled him to 
understand the part which the Minister had forced 
him to perform. Thus the world has given the 
Grand Duke credit, not only for the possession of 
great talents, but almost for as much firmness of mind 
and decision of character as his Minister. But since 
his long-agitated career has become calm and tran- 
quil, and Beckendorff, like a guardian spirit, has 
ceased to be ever at his elbow, the character of the 
Grand Duke of Reisenburg begins to be understood. 
His Court has been, and still is, frequented by all the 
men of genius in Germany, who are admitted with- 
out scruple, even if they be not noble. But the 
astonishing thing is, that the Grand Duke is always 
surrounded by every species of political and philoso- 
phical quack that you can imagine. Discussions on a 
free press, on the reformation of the criminal code, 
on the abolition of commercial duties, and suchlike 
interminable topics, are perpetually resounding with- 
in the palace of this arbitrary Prince ; and the people, 
fired by the representations of the literary and politi- 
cal journals with which Reisenburg abounds, and 
whose bold speculations on all subjects elude the 
vigilance of the censor, by being skilfully amalga- 
mated with a lavish praise of the royal character, are 
perpetually flattered with the speedy hope of becom- 
ing freemen. Suddenly, when all are expecting the 
grant of a charter or the institution of Chambers, Mr. 
Beckendorff rides up from his retreat to the Resid- 
ence, and the next day the whole crowd of philo- 
sophers are swept from the royal presence, and the 
censorship of the press becomes so severe, that for a 



moment you would fancy that Reisenburg instead of 
being, as it boasts itself, the modern Athens, had 
more right to the title of the modern Boeotia. The 
people, who enjoy an impartial administration of 
equal laws, who have flourished, and are flourishing, 
under the wise and moderate rule of their new 
monarch, have in fact no inclination to exert them- 
selves for the attainment of constitutional liberty, in 
any other way than by their voices. Their barbar- 
ous apathy astounds the philosophes ; who, in de- 
spair, when the people tell them that they are happy 
and contented, artfully remind them that their happi- 
ness depends on the will of a single man ; and that, 
though the present character of the monarch may 
guarantee present felicity, still they should think of 
their children, and not less exert themselves for the 
insurance of future. These representations, as con- 
stantly reiterated as the present system will allow, 
have at length, I assure you, produced an effect ; and 
political causes of a peculiar nature, of which I shall 
soon speak, combining their influence with these 
philosophical exertions, have of late frequently fright- 
ened the Grand Duke ; who, in despair, would per- 
haps grant a Constitution, if Beckendorff would 
allow him. But the Minister is conscious that the 
people would not be happier, and do not in fact 
require one : he looks with a jealous and an evil eye 
on the charlatanism of all kinds which is now so 
prevalent at Court : he knows, from the characters of 
many of these philosophers and patriots, that their 
private interest is generally the secret spring of their 
public virtue ; that if the Grand Duke, moved by 
their entreaties or seduced by their flattery, were to 
yield a little, he would soon be obliged to grant all, 
to their demands and their threats ; and finally, 



Beckendorff has, of late years, so completely inter- 
woven the policy of Reisenburg with that of Austria, 
that he feels that the rock on which he has determined 
to found the greatness of his country must be quitted 
for ever, if he yield one jot to the caprice or the weak- 
ness of his monarch.' 

* But Beckendorff,' said Vivian ; ' why can he not 
crush in the bud the noxious plant which he so much 
dreads? Why does the press speak in the least to 
the people? Why is the Grand Duke surrounded 
by any others except pompous Grand Marshals, and 
empty-headed Lord Chamberlains? I am surprised 
at this indifference, this want of energy!' 

' My dear Sir, there are reasons for all things. 
Rest assured that Beckendorff is not a man to act 
incautiously or weakly. The Grand Duchess, the 
mother of the Crown Prince, has been long dead. 
Beckendorff, who, as a man, has the greatest con- 
tempt for women as a statesman, looks to them as 
the most precious of political instruments. It was 
his wish to have married the Grand Duke to the 
young Princess who is now destined for his son ; but 
for once in his life he failed in influencing his pupil. 
The truth was, and it is to this cause that we must 
trace the present disorganized state of the Court, and 
indeed of the kingdom, that the Grand Duke had 
secretly married a lady to whom he had long been 
attached. This lady was a Countess, and his sub- 
ject ; and as it was impossible, by the laws of the 
kingdom, that any one but a member of a reigning 
family could be allowed to share the throne, his Royal 
Highness had recourse to a plan which is not un- 
common in this country, and espoused the lady with 
his left hand. The ceremony, which we call here a 
morganatic marriage, you have probably heard of 



before. The favoured female is, to all intents and 
purposes, the wife of the monarch, and shares every 
thing except his throne. She presides at Court, but 
neither she nor her children assume the style of 
majesty ; although in some instances the latter have 
been created princes, and acknowledged as heirs ap- 
parent, when there has been a default in the lineal 
royal issue. The lady of whom we are speaking, 
according to the usual custom, has assumed a name 
derivative from that of her royal husband ; and as the 
Grand Duke's name is Charles, she is styled Madame 

'And what kind of Lady is Madame Carolina?' 
asked Vivian. 

'Philosophical! piquant! Parisian! a genius, 
according to her friends ; who, as in fact she is a 
Queen, are of course the whole world. Though a 
German by family, she is a Frenchwoman by birth. 
Educated in the salons spirituels of the French metro- 
polis, she has early imbibed superb ideas of the 
perfectibility of man, and of the " science " of con- 
versation ; on both which subjects you will not be 
long at Court, ere you hear her descant ; demon- 
strating by the brilliancy of her ideas the possibility 
of the one, and by the fluency of her language her 
acquaintance with the other. She is much younger 
than her husband ; and though not exactly a model 
for Phidias, a most fascinating woman. Variety is 
the talisman by which she commands all hearts, and 
gained her Monarch's. She is only consistent in 
being delightful ; but, though changeable, she is not 
capricious. Each day displays a new accomplish- 
ment, as regularly as it does a new costume ; but as 
the acquirement seems only valued by its possessor as 
it may delight others, so the dress seems worn, not so 
2M 545 


much to gratify her own vanity, as to please her 
friends' tastes. Genius is her idol ; and with her, 
genius is found in every thing. She speaks in equal 
raptures of an opera dancer, and an epic poet. Her 
ambition is to converse on all subjects ; and by a 
judicious management of a great mass of miscel- 
laneous reading, and by indefatigable exertions to 
render herself mistress of the prominent points of 
the topic of the day, she appears to converse on all 
subjects with ability. She takes the liveliest interest 
in the progress of mind, in all quarters of the globe ; 
and imagines that she should, at the same time, im- 
mortalize herself and benefit her species, could she 
only establish a Quarterly Review in Ashantee, and 
a scientific Gazette at Timbuctoo. Notwithstanding 
her sudden elevation, no one has ever accused her of 
arrogance, or pride, or ostentation. Her liberal prin- 
ciples, and her enlightened views, are acknowledged 
by all. She advocates equality in her circle of privi- 
leged nobles ; and is enthusiastic on the rights of 
man, in a country where justice is a favour. Her 
boast is to be surrounded by men of genius, and her 
delight to correspond with the most celebrated per- 
sons of all countries. She is herself a literary char- 
acter of no mean celebrity. Few months have 
elapsed since enraptured Reisenburg hailed, from her 
glowing pen, two neat octavos, bearing the title of 
which give an interesting and accurate picture of the 
age, and delight the modern public with vivid de- 
scriptions of the cookery, costume, and conversation 
of the eighth century. You smile, my friend, at 
Madame Carolina's production. Do not you acree 
with me, that it requires no mean talent to convey 
a picture of the bustle of a levee during the middle 



ages? Conceive Sir Oliver looking in at his club! 
and fancy the small talk of Roland during a morning 
visit! Yet even the fame of this work is to be 
eclipsed by Madame's forthcoming quarto of 
is whispered, is to be a chef-d'oeuvre, enriched by a 
chronological arrangement, by a celebrated oriental 
scholar, of all the anecdotes in the Arabian Nights 
relating to the Caliph. It is, of course, the sun of 
Madame's patronage that has hatched into noxious 
life the swarm of sciolists who now infest the Court, 
and who are sapping the husband's political power, 
while they are establishing the wife's literary reputa- 
tion. So much for Madame Carolina! I need 
hardly add, that during your short stay at Court, you 
will be delighted with her. If ever you know her as 
well as I do, you will find her vain, superficial, heart- 
less : her sentiment a system : her enthusiasm 
exaggeration ; and her genius merely a clever adop- 
tion of the profundity of others.' 

'And Beckendorff and the lady are not friendly?' 
asked Vivian, who was delighted with his communi- 
cative companion. 

4 Beckendorff's is a mind that such a woman can- 
not, of course, comprehend. He treats her with con- 
tempt, and, if possible, views her with hatred ; for he 
considers that she has degraded the character of his 
pupil ; while she, on the contrary, wonders by what 
magic spell he exercises such influence over the con- 
duct of her husband. At first, Beckendorff treated 
her and her circle of illuminati with contemptuous 
silence ; but, in politics, nothing is contemptible. 
The Minister, knowing that the people were prosper- 
ous and happy, cared little for projected constitutions, 
and less for metaphysical abstractions ; but some cir- 



cumstances have lately occurred, which, I imagine, 
have convinced him that for once he has miscal- 
culated. After the arrangement of the German 
States, when the Princes were first mediatised, an 
attempt was made, by means of a threatening league, 
to obtain for these political victims a very ample share 
of the power and patronage of the new State of Reis- 
enburg. This plan failed, from the lukewarmness 
and indecision of our good friend of Little Lilliput ; 
who, between ourselves, was prevented from joining 
the alliance by the intrigues of Beckendorff. Beck- 
endorff secretly took measures that the Prince should 
be promised, that in case of his keeping backward, he 
should obtain more than would fall to his lot by 
leading the van. The Prince of Little Lilliput and 
his peculiar friends accordingly were quiet, and the 
attempt of the other chieftains failed. It was then 
that his Highness found he had been duped. Beck- 
endorff would not acknowledge the authority, and, of 
course, did not redeem the pledge of his agent. The 
effect that this affair produced upon the Prince's 
mind you can conceive. Since then, he has never 
frequented Reisenberg, but constantly resided either 
at his former Capital, now a provincial town of the 
Grand Duchy, or at this castle ; viewed, you may 
suppose, with no very cordial feeling by his com- 
panions in misfortune. But the thirst of revenge 
will inscribe the bitterest enemies in the same muster- 
roll, and the Princes, incited by the bold carriage of 
Madame Carolina's philosophical proteges, and in- 
duced to believe that Beckendorff's power is on the 
wane, have again made overtures to our friend, with- 
out whose powerful assistance they feel that they have 
but little chance of success. Observe how much 
more men's conduct is influenced by circumstances, 



than principles! When these persons leagued to- 
gether before, it was with the avowed intention of 
obtaining a share of the power and patronage of the 
State : the great body of the people, of course, did 
not sympathise in that, which, after all, to them, was 
a party quarrel ; and by the joint exertions of open 
force and secret intrigue, the Court triumphed. But 
now, these same individuals come forward, not as 
indignant Princes demanding a share of the envied 
tyranny, but as ardent patriots advocating a people's 
rights. The public, though I believe that in fact 
they will make no bodily exertion to acquire a con- 
stitutional freedom, the absence of which they can 
only abstractedly feel, have no objection to attain 
that, which they are assured will not injure their 
situation, provided it be by the risk and exertions of 
others. As far, therefore, as clamor can support 
the Princes, they have the people on their side ; and 
as upwards of three hundred thousand of the Grand 
Ducal subjects are still living on their estates, and 
still consider themselves as their serfs, they trust that 
some excesses from this great body may incite the 
rest of the people to similar outrages. The natural 
disposition of mankind to imitation, particularly 
when the act to be imitated is popular, deserves at- 
tention. The Court is divided ; for the exertions of 
Madame, and the bewitching influence of Fashion, 
have turned the heads even of grey-beards : and to 
give you only one instance, his Excellency the Grand 
Marshal, a portege of the House of Austria, and a 
favourite of Metternich, the very person to whose 
interests, and as a reward for whose services, our 
princely friend was sacrificed by the Minister, has 
now himself become a pupil in the school of modern 
philosophy, and drivels out, with equal ignorance and 



fervor, enlightened notions on the most obscure sub- 
jects. In the midst of all this confusion, the Grand 
Duke is timorous, dubious, and uncertain. Becken- 
dorff has a difficult game to play ; he may fall at last. 
Such, my dear Sir, are the tremendous consequences 
of a weak Prince marrying a blue-stocking ! ' 

* And the Crown Prince, Mr. Sievers, how does he 
conduct himself at this interesting moment? or is 
his mind so completely engrossed by the anticipa- 
tion of his Imperial alliance, that he has no thought 
for any thing but his approaching bride?' 

' The Crown Prince, my dear Sir, is neither think- 
ing of his bride, nor of any thing else : he is a hunch- 
backed idiot. Of his deformities I have myself been 
a witness ; and though it is difficult to give an 
opinion of the intellect of a being with whom you 
have never interchanged a syllable, nevertheless his 
countenance does not contradict the common creed. 
I say the common creed, Mr. Grey, for there are 
moments when the Crown Prince of Reisenburg is 
spoken of by his future subjects in a very different 
manner. Whenever any unpopular act is committed, 
or any unpopular plan suggested by the Court or the 
Grand Duke, then whispers are immediately afloat 
that a future Brutus must be looked for in their 
Prince : then it is generally understood that his idiot- 
ism is only assumed ; and what woman does not de- 
tect, in the glimmerings of his lack-lustre eye, the 
vivid sparks of suppressed genius? In a short time 
the cloud blows over the Court ; dissatisfaction dis- 
appears ; and the moment that the Monarch is again 
popular, the unfortunate Crown Prince again be- 
comes the uninfluential object of pity or derision. 
All immediately forget that his idiotism is only as- 
sumed ; and what woman ever ceases from deploring 



the unhappy lot of the future wife of their impuis- 
sant Prince! Such, my dear Sir, is the way of man- 
kind! At the first glance it would appear, that in 
this world, monarchs, on the whole, have it pretty 
well their own way ; but reflection will soon enable 
us not to envy their situations ; and speaking as a 
father, which unfortunately I am not, should I not 
view with disgust that lot in life, which necessarily 
makes my son my enemy. The Crown Prince of 
all countries is only a puppet in the hands of the 
people, to be played against his own father.' 


THE Prince returned home at a late hour, and im- 
mediately inquired for Vivian. During dinner, 
which he hastily dispatched, it did not escape our 
hero's attention that his Highness was unusually 
silent and, indeed, agitated. 

' When we have finished our meal, my good 
friend,' at length said the Prince, c I very much wish 
to consult with you on a most important business.' 
Since the explanation of last night, the Prince, in 
private conversation, had dropped his regal plural. 

' I am ready this moment,' said Vivian. 

4 You will think it very strange, Mr. Grey, when 
you become acquainted with the nature of my com- 
munication ; you will justly consider it most strange 
most singular that I should choose for a confi- 
dant, and a counsellor in an important business, a 
gentleman with whom I have been acquainted so 
short a time as yourself. But, Sir, I have well 
weighed, at least I have endeavoured well to weigh, 
all the circumstances and contingencies which such a 
confidence would involve ; and the result of my re- 



flection is, that I will look to you as a friend and an 
adviser, feeling assured that both from your situa- 
tion and your disposition, no temptation exists which 
can induce you to betray, or to deceive me.' Though 
the Prince said this with an appearance of perfect 
sincerity, he stopped and looked very earnestly in 
his guest's face, as if he would read his secret 
thoughts, or were desirous of now giving him an 
opportunity of answering. 

* As far as the certainty of your confidence being 
respected,' answered Vivian, ' I trust your Highness 
may communicate to me with the most assured spirit. 
But while my ignorance of men and affairs in this 
country will ensure you from any treachery on my 
part, I very much fear that it will also preclude me 
from affording you any advantageous advice or assist- 

' On that head,' replied the Prince, ' I am of course 
the best judge. The friend whom I need is a man 
not ignorant of the world, with a cool head and an 
impartial mind. Though young, you have said and 
told me enough to prove that you are not unac- 
quainted with mankind. Of your courage, I have 
already had a convincing proof. In the business in 
which I require your assistance, freedom from na- 
tional prejudices will materially increase the value of 
your advice ; and therefore I am far from being 
unwilling to consult a person ignorant, according to 
your own phrase, of men and affairs in this country. 
Moreover, your education as an Englishman has 
early led you to exercise your mind on political sub- 
jects ; and it is in a political business that I require 
your aid.' 

' Am I fated always to be the dry nurse of an 
embryo faction ! ' thought Vivian in despair, and he 



watched earnestly the countenance of the Prince. In 
a moment he expected to be invited to become a 
counsellor of the leagued Princes. Either the lamp 
was burning dim, or the blazing wood fire had sud- 
denly died away, or a mist was over Vivian's eyes ; 
but tor a moment he almost imagined that he was 
sitting opposite his old friend, the Marquess of Cara- 
bas. The Prince's phrase had given rise to a thou- 
sand agonizing associations : in an instant Vivian 
had worked up his mind to a pitch of nervous excite- 

* Political business ! ' said Vivian, in an agitated 
voice. ' You could not address a more unfortunate 
person. I have seen, Prince, too much of politics, 
ever to wish to meddle with them again.' 

' You are too quick too quick, my good friend,' 
continued his Highness. ' I may wish to consult 
you on political business, and yet have no intention 
of engaging you in politics which indeed is quite 
a ridiculous idea. But I see that I was right in sup- 
posing that these subjects have engaged your atten- 

' I have seen, in a short time, a great deal of the 
political world,' answered Vivian, who was almost 
ashamed of his previous emotion ; ' and I thank 
heaven daily, that I have no chance of again having 
any connection with it.' 

'Well, well! that as it may be. Nevertheless, 
your experience is only another inducement to me to 
request your assistance. Do not fear that I wish to 
embroil you in politics ; but I hope you will not 
refuse, although almost a stranger, to add to the very 
great obligations which I am already under to you, 
and give me the benefit of your opinion.' 

c Your Highness may speak with the most perfect 


unreserve, and reckon upon my delivering my most 
genuine sentiments.' 

* You have not forgotten, I venture to believe,' 
said the Prince, ' our short conversation of last 
night ? J 

< It was of too interesting a nature easily to escape 
my memory.' 

' Before I can consult you on the subject which at 
present interests me, it is necessary that I should 
make you a little acquainted with the present state 
of public affairs here, and the characters of the prin- 
cipal individuals who control them.' 

'* As far as an account of the present state of poli- 
tical parties, the history of the Grand Duke's career, 
and that of his Minister Mr. BeckendorfF, and their 
reputed characters, will form part of your Highness' 
narrative, by so much may its length be curtailed, 
and your trouble lessened ; for I have at different 
times picked up, in casual conversation, a great deal 
of information on these topics. Indeed, you may 
address me, in this respect, as you would any German 
gentleman, who, not being himself personally inter- 
ested in public life, is of course not acquainted with 
its most secret details.' 

' I did not reckon on this,' said the Prince, in a 
cheerful voice. ' This is a great advantage, and an- 
other reason that I should no longer hesitate to devel- 
ope to you a certain affair which now occupies my 
mind. To be short,' continued the Prince, ( it is of 
the letter which I so mysteriously received last night, 
and which, as you must have remarked, very much 
agitated me, it is on this letter that I wish to con- 
sult you. Bearing in mind the exact position the 
avowed and public position in which I stand, as con- 
nected with the Court ; and having a due acquaint- 



ance, which you state you have, with the char- 
acter of Mr. Beckendortf, what think you of this 

So saying, the Prince leant over the table, and 
handed to Vivian the following epistle. 


' I am commanded by his Royal Highness to in- 
form your Highness, that his Royal Highness has 
considered the request which was signed by your 
Highness and other noblemen, and presented by you 
to his Royal Highness in a private interview. His 
Royal Highness commands me to state, that that 
request will receive his most attentive consideration. 
At the same time, his Royal Highness also com- 
mands me to observe, that in bringing about the 
completion of a result desired by all parties, it is 
difficult to carry on the necessary communications 
merely by written documents ; and his Royal High- 
ness has therefore commanded me to submit to your 
Highness, the advisability of taking some steps in 
order to further the possibility of the occurrence of 
an oral interchange of the sentiments of the respec- 
tive parties. Being aware, that from the position 
which your Highness has thought proper at 
present to maintain, and from other causes 
which are of too delicate a nature to be 
noticed in any other way except by allusion, 
that your Highness may feel difficulty in 
personally communicating with his Royal Highness, 
without consulting the wishes and opinions of the 
other Princes ; a process to which it must be evident 
to your Highness, his Royal Highness feels it im- 



possible to submit ; and, at the same time, desirous 
of forwarding the progress of those views, which his 
Royal Highness and your Highness may conjunc- 
tively consider calculated to advance the well-being 
of the State, I have to submit to your Highness the 
propriety of considering the propositions contained 
in the enclosed paper ; which, if your Highness 
keep unconnected with this communication, the 
purport of the letter will be confined to your 



' i st. That an interview shall take place between 
your Highness and myself ; the object of which 
shall be the consideration of measures by which, 
when adopted, the various interests now in agitation 
shall respectively be regarded. 

1 2nd. That this interview shall be secret ; your 
Highness being incognito.' 

' If your Highness be disposed to accede to the 
first proposition, I beg to submit to you, that from 
the nature of my residence, its situation, and other 
causes, there will be no fear that any suspicion of the 
fact of Mr. *von Philipson acceding to the two pro- 
positions will gain notoriety. This letter will be 
delivered into your own hands. If Mr. von Philip- 
son determine on acceding to these propositions, he 
is most probably aware of the general locality in 
which my residence is situated ; and proper measures 
will be taken that, if Mr. von Philipson honour me 
with a visit, he shall not be under the necessity of 
attracting attention, by inquiring the way to my 
house. It is wished that the fact of the second pro- 
position being acceded to, should only be known to 
Mr. von Philipson and myself ; but if to be perfectly 



unattended be considered as an insuperable objection, 
I consent to his being accompanied by a single 
friend. I shall be alone. 


'Well!' said the Prince, as Vivian finished the 

* The best person,' said Vivian, ' to decide upon 
your Highness consenting to this interview, is your- 

4 That is not the point on which I wish to have 
the benefit of your opinion ; for I have already con- 
sented. I rode over this morning to my cousin, the 
Duke of Micromegas, and dispatched from his resid- 
ence a trusty messenger to Beckendorff. I have 
agreed to meet him and to-morrow ; but on the 
express terms that I should not be unattended. 
Now then,' continued the Prince, with great energy, 
' now then, will you be my companion ?' 

* I!' said Vivian, in the greatest surprise. 

' Yes ; you, my good friend ! vow, you. I should 
consider myself as safe if I were sleeping in a burn- 
ing house, as I should be were* I with Beckendorff 
alone. Although this is not the first time that we 
have communicated, I have never yet seen him ; and 
I am fully aware, that if the approaching interview 
were known to my friends, they would consider it 
high time that my son reigned in my stead. But I 
am resolved to be firm to be inflexible. My course 
is plain. I am not to be again duped by him ; 
which,' continued the Prince, very much confused, 
4 1 will not conceal that I have been once.' 

' But I ! ' said Vivian ; { I what good can I pos- 
sibly do? It appears to me, that if Beckendorff is 
to be dreaded as you describe, the presence or the 



attendance of no friend can possibly save you from 
his crafty plans. But surely, if any one attend you, 
why not be accompanied by a person whom you have 
known long, and who knows you well on whom 
you can confidently rely, and who may be aware, 
from a thousand signs and circumstances which will 
never attract my attention, at what particular and 
pressing moments you may require prompt and ener- 
getic assistance. Such is the companion you want ; 
and surely such an one you may find in Arnelm 
Von Neuwied ' 

1 Arnelm ! Von Neuwied ! ' said the Prince ; ' the 
best hands at sounding a bugle, or spearing a boar, 
in all Reisenburg! Excellent men, forsooth, to 
guard their master from the diplomatic deceits of the 
wily BeckendorfF! Moreover, were they to have 
even the slightest suspicion of my intended move- 
ment, they would commit rank treason out of pure 
loyalty, and lock me up in my own Cabinet! No, 
no ! they will never do : I want a companion of ex- 
perience and knowledge of the world ; with whom I 
may converse with some prospect of finding my 
wavering firmness strengthened, or my misled judg- 
ment rightly guided, or my puzzled brain cleared, 
modes of assistance to which the worthy Jagd Junker 
is but little accustomed, however quickly he might 
hasten to my side in a combat, or the chace.' 

t If these, then, will not do, surely there is one 
man in this Castle, who, although he may not be a 
match for BeckendorfF, can be foiled by few others 
Mr. SieversP said Vivian, with an inquiring 

c Sievers!' exclaimed the Prince with great eager- 
ness ; < the very man ! firm, experienced, and sharp- 
witted well schooled in political learning, in case I 



required his assistance in arranging the term's of the 
intended Charter, or the plan of the intended Cham- 
bers ; for these, of course, are the points on which 
Beckendorff wishes to consult. But one thing I am 
determined on : I positively pledge myself to noth- 
ing, while under BeckendorfPs roof. He doubtless 
anticipates, by my visit, to grant the liberties of the 
people on his own terms: perhaps Mr. BeckendorfF, 
for once in his life, may be mistaken. I am not to 
be deceived twice ; and I am determined not to 
yield the point of the Treasury being under the con- 
trol of the Senate. That is the part of the harness 
which galls ; and to preserve themselves from this 
rather inconvenient regulation, without question, my 
good friend Beckendorff has hit upon this plan. 5 

f Then Mr. Sievers will accompany you ?' asked 
Vivian, calling the Prince's attention to the point of 

{ The very man for it, my dear friend ! but al- 
though Beckendorff, most probably respecting my 
presence, and taking into Consideration the circum- 
stances under which we meet, would refrain from 
consigning Sievers to a dungeon ; still, although the 
Minister invites this interview, and although I have 
no single inducement to conciliate him ; yet it would 
scarcely be correct, scarcely dignified on my part, to 
prove, by the presence of my companion, that I had 
for a length of time harboured an individual who, by 
BeckendorfPs own exertions, was banished from the 
Grand Duchy. It would look too much like a 

*Oh!' said Vivian, * is it so; and pray of what 
was Mr. Sievers guilty?' 

' Of high treason against one who was not his 



< How is that ?' 

* Sievers, who is a man of most considerable tal- 
ents, was for a long time a professor in one of our 
great Universities. The publication of many able 
works procured him a reputation which induced 
Madame Carolina to use every exertion to gain his 
attendance at Court ; and a courtier in time the 
professor became. At Reisenburg Mr. Sievers was 
the great authority on all possible subjects philoso- 
phical, literary, and political. In fact, he was the 
fashion ; and, at the head of the great literary jour- 
nal which is there published, he terrified admiring 
Germany with his profound and piquant critiques. 
Unfortunately, like some men as good, he was un- 
aware that Reisenburg was not an independent State ; 
and so, on the occasion of Austria attacking Naples, 
Mr. Sievers took the opportunity of attacking 
Austria. His article, eloquent, luminous, profound, 
revealed the dark colours of the Austrian policy ; as 
an artist's lamp brings out the murky tints of a Spag- 
noletto. Every one admired Sievers' bitter sarcasms, 
enlightened views, and indignant eloquence. Ma- 
dame Carolina crowned him with laurel in the midst 
of her coterie ; and it is said that the Grand Duke 
sent him a snuff-box. In a very short time the ar- 
ticle reached Vienna ; and in a still shorter time Mr. 
Beckendorff reached the Residence, and insisted on 
the author being immediately given up to the Aus- 
trian Government. Madame Carolina was in despair, 
the Grand Duke in doubt, and Beckendorff threat- 
ened to resign if the order were not signed. A kind 
friend, perhaps his Royal Highness himself, gave 
Sievers timely notice, and by rapid flight he reached 
my castle, and demanded my hospitality ; he has 
lived here ever since, and has done me a thousand. 



services, not the least of which, is the education which 
he has given my son, my glorious Maximilian.' 

* And Beckendorff,' asked Vivian, * has he always 
been aware that Sievers was concealed here?' 

* That I cannot answer : had he been, it is not im- 
probable that he would have winked at it ; since it 
never has been his policy, unnecessarily, to annoy a 
mediatised Prince, or without great occasion to let 
us feel that our independence is gone, I will not, 
with such a son as I have, say for ever.' 

< Mr. Sievers, of course then, cannot visit Bec- 
kendorff,' said Vivian. 

4 That is clear,' said the Prince, * and I therefore 
trust that now you will no longer refuse my first 

It was, of course, impossible for Vivian to deny 
the Prince any longer ; and indeed he had no objec- 
tion, as his Highness could not be better attended, 
to seize the singular and unexpected opportunity, 
which now offered itself, of becoming acquainted 
with an individual, respecting whom his curiosity 
was very much excited. It was a late hour ere the 
Prince and his friend retired ; having arranged every 
thing for the morrow's journey, and conversed on the 
probable subjects of the approaching interview at 
great length. 


ON the following morning, before sunrise, the 
Prince's valet roused Vivian from his slumbers. 
According to the appointment of the preceding even- 
ing, Vivian repaired in due time to a certain spot in 
the park. The Prince reached it at the same moment. 
A mounted groom, leading two English horses, of 
very showy appearance, and each having a travelling 

2N 561 


case strapped on the back of its saddle, awaited them. 
His Highness mounted one of the steeds with skilful 
celerity, although Arnelm and Von Neuwied were 
not there to do honour to his bridle and his stirrup. 

' You must give me an impartial opinion of your 
courser, my dear friend,' said the Prince to Vivian, 
' for if you deem it worthy of being bestridden by 
you, my son requests that you will do him the great 
honour of accepting it ; if so, call it Max ; and pro- 
vided it be as thorough-bred as the donor, you need 
not change it for Bucephalus.' 

* Not unworthy of the son of Ammon ! ' said 
Vivian, as he touched the spirited animal with the 
spur, and proved its fiery action on the springing turf. 

A man never feels so proud or so sanguine as when 
he is bounding on the back of a fine horse. Cares 
fly with the first curvet ; and the very sight of a spur 
is enough to prevent one committing suicide. What 
a magnificent creature is man, that a brute's prancing 
hoof can influence his temper or his destiny! and 
truly, however little there may be to admire in the 
rider, few things in this admirable world can be 
conceived more beautiful than a horse, when the 
bloody spur has thrust some anger in his resentful 
side. How splendid to view him with his dilated 
nostril, his flaming eye, his arched neck, and his 
waving tail, rustling like a banner in a battle ! to see 
him champing his slavered bridle, and sprinkling the 
snowy foam upon the earth, which his hasty hoof 
seems almost as if it scorned to touch! 

When Vivian and his companion had proceeded 
about five miles, the Prince pulled up, and giving a 
sealed letter to the groom, he desired him to leave 
them. The Prince and Vivian amused themselves 
for a considerable time, by endeavouring to form a 



correct conception of the person, manners, and habits 
of the wonderful man to whom they were on the 
point of paying so interesting a visit. 

' I bitterly regret,' said Vivian, < that I have for- 
gotten my Montesquieu ; and what would I give now 
to know by rote only one quotation from Machiavel ! 
I expect to be received with folded arms, and a brow 
lowering with the overwhelming weight of a brain 
meditating for the control of millions. His letter 
has prepared us for the mysterious, but not very 
amusing style of his conversation. He will be per- 
petually on his guard not to commit himself ; and 
although public business, and the receipt of papers, 
by calling him away, will occasionally give us an 
opportunity of being alone ; still I regret most bit- 
terly, that I did not put up in my case some interesting 
volume which would have allowed me to feel less 
tedious those hours during which you will necessarily 
be employed with him in private consultation.' 

After a ride of five hours, the horsemen arrived at 
a small village. 

1 Thus far I think I have well piloted you,' said the 
Prince : c but I confess my knowledge here ceases ; 
and though I. shall disobey the diplomatic instructions 
of the great man, I must even ask some old woman 
the way to Mr. Beckendorff's.' 

While they were hesitating as to whom they should 
address, an equestrian, who had already passed them 
on the road, though at some distance, came up, and 
inquired, in a voice which Vivian immediately recog- 
nized as that of the messenger who had brought 
Beckendorff's letter to Turriparva, whether he had 
the honour of addressing Mr. von Philipson. 
Neither of the gentlemen answered, for Vivian of 
course expected the Prince to reply ; and his High- 

5 6 3 


ness was, as yet, so unused to his incognito, that he 
had actually forgotten his own name. But it was 
evident that the demandant had questioned, rather 
from system, than by way of security ; and he waited 
very patiently until the Prince had